


Sweets And Bees

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bees, Confession, Drugs, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Flirting, Grandmotherly Advice, Kissing, M/M, New Boy at School, Piercings, Rebellion, Secrets, Sherlock's Past, Tattoos, Trouble, Worry, alternative universe, collegelock, motorcycle, sweets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-11 01:02:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 45,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5607847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a new student arrives and throws John's routine upside down, he learns a lesson in loosening up. But what will he teach Sherlock in return?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New Student

**Author's Note:**

> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's _Sherlock_ , though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> All posted works are complete, and we hope there will be something for everyone. We've got a back catalogue of 100 stories, so feel free to get lost within them. In 2016, we'll be slowing the pace a little, but we hope we've got enough to keep you entertained in between postings. **Our plan is to post once a month, so please subscribe.**
> 
> We also really appreciate the kudos and comments. They mean a lot -- sometimes they inspire new ideas and works, sometimes they just make us feel all warm inside. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and liking and being a great community!

John did the same thing everyday. An early morning jog, a shower, big breakfast, classes, lunch, classes, and then rugby practice. When he went home he made dinner since his mum worked late, and then he did homework and went to bed. It was the same Monday through Friday. His weekends were studying, training, and relaxing. He had big plans and he needed to stay focused. His friends had similar goals -- John wasn't exactly sociable so being friends with people doing the same activities as him worked well enough. However, on weekends those friends went to parties and teased him for not going. That was the only downfall. But even the teasing was a part of his usual routine. That was all his normal. 

And then suddenly it wasn't. 

He came to college on Monday, and his friends were talking about some new kid. That was already odd because they were in the middle of a term, and it must have been some kind of special case for someone to transfer at this time. Then he went to his next class and found this new kid was in his usual seat. It threw John off completely, not just the fact that he was sitting there but he was . . . he was breathtaking. He had a sharp, angled face, dark hair that fell in curls, and through the top of his collar John could see a part of a tattoo. One of his ears was pierced with a bar across the cartilage. The boy didn't look up as John stood there stupidly. His professor ushered him into a new seat so they could move on, but John couldn't focus on the lesson. 

That was fine. It was just one class. He would get back on track and be normal in his next class. It worked well enough. That boy wasn't there so he took his normal seat, and he took his notes and it was all fine. When the bell sounded and they all went for lunch, John grabbed his bag and made his way to the table where his teammates were sitting. But then he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and he looked to see that boy moving around the wall where no one ever sat. He found himself turning and following him. He clutched his bag tightly and slowly came around the corner. The boy was leaning on the wall, lighting a cigarette. John swallowed hard. 

"Hello," he said. 

"Is it?" Sherlock asked.

John's brow furrowed and he tried to remember what he had said. He thought he had just said hello, but now he was so nervous he couldn't remember. "What is?" he asked.

"The day . . . a conversation that starts with 'hello' quickly moves to 'Nice day, isn't it?' so I thought I'd just move it ahead faster," Sherlock said. He looked over him. "That's the kind of conversation people like you normally have, right?"

John opened his mouth and closed it again. He shifted his lunch to his other hand. "Well, I was going to ask how your day was," he said. "Is it nice, then?" He wondered if his friends had seen him come back here, or if they were looking for him. 

Sherlock looked over at this guy. "What is your name, stranger?" he asked.

This boy's gaze was very intense. His eyes were bright, especially contrasted with his dark hair. "John," he said. "John Watson. Yours?" He shifted his lunch again and stuck his hand out to shake. 

"My name is Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock said, throwing his cigarette down. "I, John Watson, am someone you don't really want to know." He turned and walked away.

John stood alone behind the school, trying to make himself call out. His voice was stuck -- clearly Sherlock wanted nothing to do with him. He sat down in the grass and leaned against the wall, opening his lunch and eating quickly since he had wasted a bit of time chatting. Or trying to chat. What had made him come over here in the first place? He didn't know. It all seemed like a dream. He took a deep breath and looked up as the bell rang. Right. His curiosity, wherever it had come from, had been satisfied. Time to get back to normal. 

Sherlock walked down to the shops and bought some more cigarettes. As he stood in the queue, he reached over and grabbed some sweets and stuck them in his pocket. Then he walked back to the school. He was a few minutes late so he climbed over the fence to get back in the building more quickly. He headed into his next class and noticed that John Watson was in this class as well. For some reason, he headed in his direction and sat down next to him.

John was staring off at the front of the room when he noticed the boy at the door. No! Sherlock was in another one of his classes! This whole day was going to really throw him off. John tried to keep looking down, but Sherlock was heading right for him. 

"I brought you some sweets," Sherlock said, pulling them out of his pocket and setting them down on the table.

John looked at the candy and then over at Sherlock. "I -- where did you get them?" he asked. And then John realised he was being impolite, so he scooped them up and put them in his backpack. "Thank you, I mean."

"I stole them and now you've got them," Sherlock said. "That means you're complicit in the crime. You've just accepted stolen goods." He wasn't quite sure why he was doing this, but he didn't stop. "In all honesty, I really expected better of you."

John pulled them back out and put the handful on Sherlock's desk again, immediately feeling silly about it. "Why did you steal them?"

Sherlock pushed them back. "I wanted them. The bigger question is why don't you ever take what you want?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," John said. He looked at the Smarties -- they were his favourite. He took one pack and put it in his pocket. 

Sherlock left the rest of the sweets on the desk. He glanced up at the professor who was still mumbling something to a student at his desk. He leaned over a bit closer to John and whispered, "Tell me, John Watson, are you satisfied with everything in your life?"

John jumped at the sudden closeness at the hot breath in his ear. He took a shaky, deep breath and looked over at Sherlock despite his heated cheeks. "Yes. Why would you ask something like that?"

"No reason," Sherlock said. "I apologise for disturbing you." He stood up and moved a few seats down. He pulled a pen and notebook out of his jacket and looked forward as the teacher began to speak.

John watched him leave, trying to work through all of that in his head. What did it all mean? What was the point of that? He glanced at the Smarties and put all of them into his bag again. He looked up and took his notes like always.

When the class was over Sherlock stood up. He ripped off the piece of paper he'd been scribbling on and folded it in half. He moved over to John and lay the paper down on the table and then headed out the door.

John flushed lightly as a couple people watched him receive the note, and then immediately started whispering. He unfolded it and read it twice. 

_We are too different to ever get along. However, you are the first person who's spoken to me since I arrived here, so I thought I'd thank you with this piece of advice. It's okay to take sometimes. You won't always be given what you need. Don't be afraid to take it. Even if it's just a chance. SH_

John didn't know what that meant either. What chance was he supposed to take? He folded it quickly again and stuffed it into his bag. He had practice now and he needed to focus. He would think about this and make a plan when he was home again.

At rugby practice the boys were waiting in a small group, grinning stupidly at him as he approached. "What?"

"Missed you at lunch today," Anderson said.

John shrugged. "So? I ate somewhere else today. That's allowed."

"Not just somewhere else. You went to sit with the new kid," he said.

"Do you know him?" someone asked from the back. John missed who it was.

"I was just curious because he was sitting all alone. And smoking and that's not allowed."

The boys laughed. "Don't get on his bad side. I heard he switched schools because he killed someone," said Dimmock.

John rolled his eyes. "Don't be an idiot. He'd be arrested."

"Not him. His family is rich. His brother is in the government or something," Lestrade said now. John looked over at him and he shrugged. "You hear rumours, you know?"

John had had enough. He got them all into their drills so they could start playing and, more importantly, stop talking about Sherlock. There was no way he had killed someone. That was mad. He was just different, that's all. John couldn't explain to himself, let alone to them, why he had sought Sherlock out at lunch today. His racing thoughts got him tackled more times than he should have so he called it a day and sent them all home. Lestrade stayed back to give him a  
final warning about the new kid. John ignored him. 

When Sherlock left school, he wandered into the city centre. He stopped at the news agents and bought a newspaper and some flowers, but he also nicked some humbugs, slipping those into his jacket pocket. He headed out and walked over to see his grandmother. There was a new young aide working. She seemed a little startled by him, but he said nothing -- just signed in and went back to his grandmother's room.

She was sitting in her rocking chair doing a crossword. She looked up and smiled when she saw him.

"I brought you some flowers," he said, moving into the room. "And some sweets," he added, setting the bad on his table.

"Thank you, Sherlock," she said. "And did you pay for these or will I have the coppers after me?" she asked, smiling a little.

"I paid for the flowers," he said. "The sweets were . . . on the house."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, Sherlock Holmes," she said, opening the bag and putting a humbug in her mouth. "My grandson shouldn't be thieving, you know."

"I know," he said. "It's just . . . it's so boring around here. I started at a new college today and I just . . . I'm bored with everything."

"You know they say only boring people get bored, Sherlock," she said. "Find something interesting and you won't be bored anymore. But make it legal, please. I want out of this place but not if it's only to go bail you out of jail."

"Fine," he said, smiling over at her. He threw away the flowers he'd brought her last week, rinsed the vase and put the new bouquet in. 

"So . . . your new school, how was it?" she asked. "Did you meet someone new?"

"Everyone was new," he said. He fiddled with his shirt sleeve. "It was a new school."

"You know what I mean," his grandmother said. "Tell me about your new friend."

"What are you talking about?" Sherlock said defensively.

"You are so confident about everything, Sherlock, but when it comes to friends, you . . . well, you're always so guarded, let's be honest. I'm not your parents, you're allowed to talk to me. Tell me about your friend. Is it a boy or a girl?"

"A boy," Sherlock said quietly.

"And what do you like about him?"

"I don't know," Sherlock said. "He talked to me."

"Is that it? That's all it takes to turn your head these days?" his grandmother asked, smiling a little.

"I don't know . . . he seems . . . interesting."

"So everything isn't so boring after all?" She pulled another humbug out of the bag and threw it at him. "I told you, find something interesting and you won't be bored anymore. What's his name?"

"John Watson," Sherlock said, unwrapping the candy and putting it in his mouth. "He's handsome," he added.

She smiled. "Not as handsome as you, I'm sure," she said. "I'm glad you found a friend. Give it a chance, okay? You'll do fine. You're quite clever, you know, and you come from such excellent stock," she added, pointing to herself.

"Don't say anything to Mum and Dad, okay?" he said. "It's . . . embarrassing, I guess."

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about," she said. "But I won't say anything. We've always been able to trust each other. I won't tell them about John if you won't tell them about Philip."

"Who's Philip?"

"My new boyfriend," her grandmother said cheekily.

"Where'd you meet him?" Sherlock asked.

"Did you see that new nursing aide? She's called Elaine. Philip is her ex boyfriend."

Sherlock laughed. "And does Elaine know you've stolen her man?"

"No," she said. "But I'll tell her. Just as soon as I tell Philip." She laughed.

Sherlock reached over and opened up the newspaper. They worked together on the crossword, and when it was time for her dinner, he walked home.

At home, John made a whole box of spaghetti so he could have enough to take for lunch tomorrow and even have leftovers for dinner again. His mum had left a note that she would be late, so John went up to his room and started his homework while he ate. He took out Sherlock's note and left it open on his desk while he worked. He didn't know why he did that either. This boy had been at their school one day, and John's whole day was thrown off. He didn't like that. 

When John got ready for bed, he put his music on to go to sleep, tossing and turning for a long time before he finally drifted off. When his alarm went off in the morning, he vowed that today would be better. He was going to focus. Everything would be fine. He sat up and saw the note on his desk still. He tossed it in the bin and shook it out of his mind. Better. Normal. He went into the bathroom to get ready for school.


	2. Food

In the morning, Sherlock got up and showered. He slid his long legs into some black jeans and pulled a white t-shirt over his head. He looked in the mirror and fiddled with his hair a bit until he felt embarrassed that he cared at all. Then he grabbed the bus into the city centre and walked the rest of the way to school, smoking the whole time.

John went to his first class like always, sitting in the same seat. He hoped that when he went to his next class, Sherlock wouldn't be in his usual seat again. As he got his things ready he tried to think of a back up plan, so he wouldn't stand around looking stupid again.

Sherlock couldn't help but be bored in his first class, but he felt better when he walked into his next one and saw John sitting there. He thought about the note he'd given him yesterday, about the advice he'd given John and the advice his grandmother had given him. He walked over and sat down next to John. "Do you care if I sit here?" he asked.

John glanced up when Sherlock walked in and, for a moment, he thought Sherlock was going to tell him to move out of his seat. But he didn't. Instead he asked something a lot nicer and John found himself nodding. "Yes, I mean, no," he said. "You can sit."

"Thanks," Sherlock said. "So, have you stolen anything today?"

"No!" John said, looking over at him in surprise. "Have you?"

"Maybe," Sherlock said. "You're not going to get me busted, are you?"

John shook his head. "I'm not a snitch," he said, and he felt a small swell of pride that he was being included in whatever scheme Sherlock had planned. Then he realised that would lead to trouble so he squashed the feeling and fiddled with fixing the papers in his desk to get ready.

"What did you do last night then? Did you commit any crimes at all?" Sherlock asked.

"Of course not. I made dinner and I did my homework and I went to bed," he said. He felt silly saying this to Sherlock. If John was hoping to be his friend, going to bed by 9:30 didn't seem to be the way to impress someone like him. "What did you do, then?"

"Cased the place I'm thinking of robbing," Sherlock said. "I'm deliberately going when it's empty to ensure that no one gets hurt so don't worry."

John watched him for a moment, trying to decide if he was serious. "Don't rob any place. Do you need something?" he asked. "Maybe I can help."

"Do you have an extra three million stashed somewhere?"

John shook his head. "What do you need all of that for?" he asked. "Are you in trouble?"

"No, not really," Sherlock said. "It's just, I'd really like to buy a crown, you know? I think I'd look good in one. I thought about stealing the Queen's but even I'm not that good, so I figured I'd get some cash together and just offer to buy it off her."

John raised his brows and then grinned, unable to help himself. "Well . . . she's a personal friend so I'll just ask her to give it to you," he said. The professor started lecturing properly and John looked up, jotting down notes but still glancing at Sherlock. Maybe he wasn't so intimidating after all.

Sherlock got out his notebook and looked up at the professor. Sherlock enjoyed all kinds of learning, but he didn't feel like he learned much in class. He scribbled a few key terms as he spoke -- teachers always gave away what precisely was going to be on the exam, and he figured he might as well take advantage of his skill in reading people to remember their little clues. He glanced over at John. What precisely could he read on John's face? What was unusual was that he wasn't quite sure just yet. Maybe that's why he had told his grandmother about him. Or maybe it was just that John's handsomeness was rendering Sherlock's abilities useless at this point. He looked back to the front of the room.

When the class ended and they started packing up, John reached out to touch Sherlock's arm to stop him from leaving just yet. He thought of the note and the advice Sherlock had written on it. "Do you want to have lunch with me again? Properly, without you leaving halfway through?" he asked.

"What about your friends? I'm guessing you didn't eat on your own before I arrived -- won't they expect to see you?"

"If you don't want to sit with them we can go to that spot you were sitting at yesterday," John said. He felt his stomach turning over nervously even though yesterday he had done the same thing without asking first.

"I'm not very good with strangers," Sherlock said. "If you don't mind doing that, we could . . . but um, I've not brought any lunch. I could just watch you eat or we could go to a cafe or something."

"I brought enough--" He cut short. He doubted Sherlock  would want his left over pasta from the night before. They didn't really have time to leave college without being his being late for his next class. "I brought extra or I could get you a school dinner," he offered. 

"I'm not much of an eater really," Sherlock said. "Let's go outside anyway as I'll need a cigarette and you'll probably need to judge me for it."

"You really shouldn't smoke," he said. "We have one more class and then it's lunch. Unless you're going to skip." He hoped the last part sounded playful and not judgmental. 

"Only if you've got a crime you want me to commit on your behalf," Sherlock said. He realised he was smiling. "All right, look, should I just meet you there?"

"Yes. Don't commit any crimes. Just come to lunch," he said. Sherlock was even more breathtaking when he smiled. It make John smile as well, made him forget that he had a class to be getting to. He stumbled as he hurried a bit. "See you," he called back as he went. 

Sherlock walked off to class, thinking about John. He did kind of like him. They seemed so different, but for some reason, he felt . . . a connection. There must be a reason. He just didn't know what it was yet. After class, he saw John talking to some other kids, so he turned and went down a hall to go out a different door. He headed over towards the wall and waited.

"What did you bring? Anything you can trade for roast beef?" Greg asked as they walked out. "Hey, where are you going?"

John looked over at the wall of the school. "I can't trade, I'm sharing."

"With the new kid? Seriously? Look -- find out if he really killed anyone, okay? And be careful."

John rolled his eyes and made his way to the spot where Sherlock was. He heard someone laughing, but he didn't look back. "Hello," he said, just like yesterday. He sat down in the grass and took out his lunch. 

Sherlock sat down next to him. "So, you handling all this all right? I get the sense you're a man who likes consistency and this little picnic is rather spontaneous. You're not going to have a panic attack, are you?" He smiled.

"I . . . I won't have a panic attack," John said after a slight hesitation. He started on his pasta slowly. "I've just always done things the same so . . . that's how I do them."

"I'm sure that pays off in many situations," Sherlock said. "But not in all. I mean, is everything perfect in your life? Be honest."

"Perfect is a high expectation," John said instead of answering properly. "Want some?" he asked, offering up his bowl. 

Sherlock leaned over and pulled some spaghetti out of the bowl. "Thanks," he said. "John Watson," he added. "I know I don't know you very well but you have 'high expectations' written all over your face. Why not go for perfection? You don't really want to settle for 'good enough', do you?"

"Oh! No, sorry," John said quickly, looking around as if a fork would pop out of nowhere. "I didn't think -- I have a napkin," he said, getting that out for Sherlock. 

"I don't mind using my fingers. Don't worry -- they're clean. Perfectly clean," Sherlock said, smiling. "So what field is it that you're planning on going into where perfection's not useful?" he asked.

John followed through with his little anxiety attack and took Sherlock's hands, cleaning his fingers and palms before realising he was holding his hands. He quickly let them go, handing Sherlock the bowl and fork, after wiping that off as well. "I don't have any diseases or anything -- you can use that. But you don't have to. Sorry," he rambled. He took a deep breath. "I am going to be a surgeon. That's where I will find perfection. I have to."

"But that's years from now," Sherlock said, taking another bite from the bowl. "Why not aim high in all aspects of your life right now?" He handed the bowl and fork back to John. "I don't have any diseases either," he added, smiling.

John flushed and mixed the pasta before taking another bite. "Things now are as good as they will be."

"You mean now that you've met someone who can supply you with sweets and possibly one day a crown?"

John shook his head, but he smiled and leaned back against the school. "Is that what you were talking about? Perfection in my social life?"

"Are you saying we're friends?" Sherlock asked.

John looked over at Sherlock. They couldn't be any more different and yet John was drawn to him. He nodded. "Yeah, I would like to be. Can I ask you something, though?"

"Go ahead," Sherlock said.

"You haven't killed anyone, have you?" 

Sherlock took a deep breath. "Well, as far as I know, the answer is no," he said. "Are you disappointed? Were you lying about the friend thing? Are you actually just interested in hiring me as a hit man?"

John laughed, a bit louder and longer than he meant to, making him flush and shut up a bit abruptly. "No. I wasn't lying and I'm not hiring you as a hit man," he said. When the bell sounded he packed up the leftover pasta into his bag, pushing himself up. 

Sherlock stood up quickly and pulled out a cigarette. "You go ahead, I'm going to smoke this first," he said.

"Oh," John said, nodding as he took a step back. "Thought I made you forget." He smiled softly and raised his hand in a wave before hurrying off. 

"Hey," Sherlock called. "Can we meet here at the end of the day?"

John looked over his shoulder and nodded before disappearing into the school. His smile fell when he remembered practice. He stood in the hall, frozen in indecision. He turned and hurried out again. "I have rugby practice first," he told Sherlock. "You can come to the field or I can meet you here after." He was fidgeting. He was going to be late.

"Here," Sherlock said, ripping off a bit of his cigarette packet. He scribbled his number down. "Just text me at the end of the day. There -- now go to the toilet before you have an accident."

"I don't have to use the bathroom, I'm late!" John hurried off and jogged to his class. When he walked in, he felt his cheeks warm. His teacher looked surprised before asking him to sit down. He did it quickly, avoiding others' gazes.

Sherlock didn't have a class so he decided to walk down to the science wing and see if he could look around the lab. The teacher was in class, and the lab assistant looked at Sherlock a little too suspiciously. "Forget it," he said. "If you're not interested in helping students succeed, I won't trouble you." He wandered towards the student lounge, but there were more people in there than he'd expected. He had another class before the end of the day so he didn't want to leave. He pushed the door open of the lounge and found a chair in back. He put his iPod on and took out a book, trying to block everyone else out.

John got his papers out and jumped into taking notes. He had never been late to class before. A small part of him enjoyed it -- the world had not fallen apart, and at the same time he cleared up the plans so Sherlock wouldn't be waiting for him. He also got a phone number. But a bigger part of him was frazzled and still feeling rushed. He was still a bit hungry from not having eaten all of his lunch, and he couldn't focus very well. Luckily the time seemed to fly by. John went to his next class so fast he had too much time to spare, satisfied as if that made up for his mistake before. After class, like always, he headed for practice. The boys were all giving him a hard time again, especially when he refused to answer stupid questions. Greg cornered him after practice, catching him as he tried to enter the number in his phone. 

"You got his number?"

"Yeah, we're going to hang out," John said. His stomach squirmed. Greg had invited him out before, but John always said no because he had to go home to make dinner and do homework and sleep.

"Just you and him?"

"He hasn't killed anyone."

"Then why is he here?" Greg asked.

John rolled his eyes and Greg walked off, grumbling under his breath. John watched him leave before texting.

 _Practice is done. -JW_  
_It's John, by the way. -JW_  
_John Watson. -JW_

Sherlock had left college, walking over to sit with his grandmother for a bit. He hadn't wanted to go near any rugby business, but he was hoping he could spend a bit of time with John. He was worried about going back to his house, though, because he didn't want to arouse his parents' suspicions if he came in and then went out again. He was reading his grandmother crossword clues when his phone starting buzzing in his pocket.

His grandmother watched him grab at the phone and then read the messages. "Is that your John, then?" she asked, smiling a little.

"Yeah," Sherlock mumbled, still looking at John's name on the screen. "He had some sports thing, but now I think we're going to meet up."  
  
"Sport? That's quite a healthy habit, don't you think?"  
  
Sherlock looked up. "Yeah, well, we're quite different, but . . ."

"But you still like him?"

"I think so, yeah," Sherlock said.

"And if he's texting you, that means he likes you?" she asked.

"I guess," Sherlock said. In all honesty, he wasn't totally sure why John was interacting him, but he was really hoping it was for a good reason.

"I bet he doesn't like your smoking," she said. "Maybe you should quit."

"I don't smoke that much," he lied. "And besides, are you saying I'm supposed to change who I am just to get someone to like me?" He smiled a little, like he'd caught her in a lie.

"Don't be stupid, Sherlock," she responded. "First of all, you're trying to catch me out which will never work as I'm a million times smarter than you. Secondly, smoking isn't who you are. And thirdly, it's just a bad habit and if you want _me_ to like you, you should quit." She smiled over at him.

"It's not the worst habit I could have," he mumbled defensively.

"No, you're right, it's not," she said more softly. "You've done well. You have."

Sherlock rolled his eyes a little.

"Fine, I'll say no more," she said. "Besides the worst habit you could have would be chewing with your mouth full. That's the worst habit and it's one everyone in this place has. It's disgusting."

Sherlock laughed. "Give them a break," he said. "They're old people."  
  
"Being old is no excuse for being impolite."  
  
Sherlock laughed again. "You are the most impolite person I know," he said. "If it's not age, what's your excuse?"  
  
"Sherlock Holmes, that's outrageous to suggest that age has anything to do with it! I've never been polite and you know it!"

"Sorry," he said. "You're right. You've always been a rude woman. I don't know what I was thinking."  
  
She smiled again. "So where are you and your John going to meet? Somewhere romantic?" she asked.

"I don't know . . . I don't think he thinks like that," Sherlock said quietly, looking again at his phone.

"Well, give it time, you'll be able to tell soon enough," she said softly. "Of course, going somewhere romantic couldn't hurt . . . why don't you at least take him somewhere to eat. If he's just been doing sport, he'll probably be hungry."

Sherlock hit reply.

_Want to meet at the cafe near the post office? SH_

His grandmother watched him typing, smiling a little at the eagerness on his face. "Well, where'd you pick?"

"That cafe in town. They mainly serve sandwiches -- do you think that's okay?" he asked, wishing he'd checked before he'd sent the text.

"That's perfect, I think," she said.

_I'm going to have a quick shower and I'll meet you there. Half hour tops. -JW_

_See you then. SH_

Sherlock looked up at his grandmother. "He said okay," he said.

"That's good," she said, smiling. They finished the crossword and then Sherlock headed out. He got two cups of tea and that sat down at a table in back to wait for John's arrival.

John packed his things and had a shower in the locker room. He changed back into his clothes and left for the cafe, ruffling at his hair to help it dry. When he arrived he smiled wide, still a bit nervous, joining him at the table. "Hi."

Sherlock was struck a bit stupid by how handsome John looked, but he quickly was able to get his brain to connect properly to his mouth and asked, "Do you have a good time running around on a field?" He pushed the other mug towards John.

John nodded. "Yeah." He was glad he had made enough food for leftovers today, so he wouldn't have to cut this short. "So what did you do?"

"Oh, I just went to another field and ran around on my own for a bit," Sherlock said.

"Oh. Alone?" John asked, sipping on his tea. He glanced at the menu but didn't touch it.

"Yeah, if you're on your own that that means for sure you'll be the winner," Sherlock said. "I'm kidding. I didn't run around in a field. I generally don't run that often. Walking suits me fine." He swallowed some more tea. "Um, do you want to get something to eat? Since you fed me at lunch, I thought I could return the favour."

"I have leftovers at home," he said. John didn't have a job himself, and his mum worked doubles for their rent and bills. There was no extra to give John pocket money, but he didn't want to admit that to Sherlock. 

"More spaghetti? You can die from too much spaghetti, you know," Sherlock said. "Fine. I won't bully you into it. But I should eat. What do you recommend?"

"You cannot overdose on pasta," John said. He pulled the menu closer and looked it over. "Hmm. This cheese toastie with the spinach and mozzarella," he said.

"Fine," Sherlock said. He stood up to place his order but then added, "Can I at least get you another tea?"

"No, I'm still working on this one," John smiled. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and went up to the till to order. He paid and then returned. "So, John Watson, what do you want to talk about?" he asked.

"Oh," John said as if it was such a surprising question. He had asked Sherlock to lunch after all, and then agreed to meet him again. Why? "I guess I want to know more about you," he said, his cheeks flushing again. He rubbed one as if annoyed with it and sipped on his tea. 

"Why? Because I don't look like the people you normally are friends with?" Sherlock asked honestly. "I imagine I'm a bit of a novelty here."

"Honestly? Yes," he nodded. "You're different -- and not like those people who like going to art shows instead of rugby games think they are different. You're . . ." John looked over the piercings and dropped his eyes to notice a tattoo in Latin on Sherlock's wrist. ". . . interesting," he said, hoping that didn't sound rude. 

Sherlock looked down at his tea. "I am interesting," he said quietly. Then he looked up at John. "I think you're interesting as well."

John laughed at that. "I am not even close," he said. "I'm boring. So very boring," he repeated a bit more quietly.

"Oh, okay, sorry," Sherlock said. "I guess I'll take off then," he added, acting like he was getting up to leave.

"Why?" John asked quickly. He thought about his words -- had he accidentally said that Sherlock was boring? "Me, I meant I'm the boring one," he said, just in case.

Sherlock looked over at John. "You are not boring, John Watson," Sherlock said. "If you think I'm such an interesting person, trust me -- I know boring and you are not boring. There's something about you that's just . . . interesting. All right?"

John flushed lightly, mostly relieved that Sherlock wasn't leaving. He really was boring, but he wasn't going to argue with Sherlock. "Okay," he said. 

Sherlock smiled. "So sports and medicine . . . what else? Tell me something you haven't ever said aloud to another person."

John opened his mouth and closed it quickly. _I like boys as well as girls._ He had definitely never spoken that out loud before. It wasn't exactly a secret but no one was asking, so John wasn't telling. "I don't know. Um . . . at one time I thought I wanted to be a writer," he said. 

"That's quite interesting," Sherlock said. "Does this mean you no longer want to be a writer or you've now realised being a doctor will lead to a more stable career?"

John thought about it. "The second one. I mean, I don't think I am good enough writer to actually make a decent living. But it's not just about money. I like helping people," he said. He looked up as the food arrived and he flushed when he saw two of everything. "Oh, I'm not -- I didn't order this," he told the waitress.

"No, I did," Sherlock said. "It's there for you to take. Take it if you want it." He took a bite of his sandwich.

John thought about the note Sherlock had left for him. The food smelled good, better than leftover pasta sounded. For a few minutes he struggled with his own internal battle before sliding the plate closer. "You didn't have to . . ." 

"Obviously, I rarely do the things I have to," Sherlock said. "So what kinds of things do you like to write?"

"Well, that's just it. I'm not exactly creative so it's nothing like stories or whatever. I just like getting my thoughts out."

"Thoughts about what? Just life or sports or what?"

"Just . . . in general," John shrugged.

"Romance?" Sherlock asked.

John shrugged again, not looking at Sherlock this time. "That's not really relevant right now," he said.

"Why not? Now's as good a time as any to decide what you think about that," Sherlock said.

"It doesn't matter what I think about it since I don't have it," John said. He looked up and smiled. "What about you? Did you leave someone at your old school?"

"I left _everyone_ at my old school," Sherlock said, laughing a little. "Look, I know what I'm talking about -- now's the time to think about romance even if you don't have any. Trust me, people can be stupid about love. You should figure out what you're looking for -- then when you find it, you'll know it." He looked over at John. "Sorry, perhaps I'm making you feel uncomfortable. Sorry."

"I don't know if I agree," John said. "When you chisel out what you're looking for, you could miss something even better that you weren't looking for." And as those words came out he found he had to look down at his food again because he had approached Sherlock and he didn't want anything misread.

"Yes, I see your point -- I don't mean write out exactly what you want down to the letter and refuse to accept anything else, but if you don't know what's important to you, you could just fall for the first pretty face you see, and that's how you'll to end up pregnant out of wedlock," Sherlock said.

John snorted a laugh, flushing and covering his mouth as he calmed down a bit. "Well, I've not got all of that really planned," he said. "Do you know what you're looking for?"

"Well, I'm not actively looking, but I do know what I would and would not accept if I happen to 'find something I wasn't looking for' as you say," Sherlock said.

John nodded. "Well, that's good," he said. He opened his mouth to ask if this person would be similar to Sherlock -- his sort of style -- but then he realised that might sound like flirting again so he didn't ask it. "I'll start thinking about it," he said instead.

"Have you ever shown anyone your writing?" Sherlock asked. "Maybe you're really good and you just don't realise."

John shrugged. "I thought about starting a blog, but I doubt anyone wants to read it. I'm bor--" He cut off and made a guilty face. "Anyway, no, I haven't."

"Maybe I could . . . one day, I mean," Sherlock said. He watched John for a minute. "Did you like the sandwich?"

"It's really good," John nodded as he finished it. "I wish you hadn't, but thank you," he said.

"Shut up about it," Sherlock said lightly. "I'm glad we could hang out for a bit."

"Me too," John said. "Next time it'll be my treat. Last thing about it, I promise," he said. He wondered how easy it would be to find a part time job, trying to mentally plan fitting that into his schedule.

"So we're going to keep being friends then?" Sherlock asked.

John nodded. "Did you think this was a test?" he asked, smiling. It was becoming easier to talk to him, to tease Sherlock and not feel like a complete idiot.

"I assumed so," Sherlock said. "Does this mean I passed?"

"It wasn't a test, but yeah," he said. "Did I?"

"Yes," Sherlock said. "Well, stage one at least. Stage two, I'm afraid, is a little more complicated." He smiled a bit.

John bit his lip lightly. "What's stage two?" 

"You have to fight a monkey," Sherlock said, laughing. "I'm just joking, I don't know why I said that -- look, I'd like to be friends, okay? I just don't want to cause you any problems."

John laughed and shook his head, finishing the second mug of tea Sherlock had bought. "Okay, we'll be friends then. I hope you don't regret coming to my school," he said. 

"So far I don't," Sherlock said. It was true. He really liked John and was glad they had met. "Um, I think I might get going now actually. I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

John started moving plates and getting his things together, a bit flustered as if it was his fault Sherlock was late or something. "Yeah, of course," he said. "I have to go, too."

"Right," Sherlock said. He stood up. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

John stood up as well, slinging his backpack on his shoulder. "Okay. See you," he agreed.

Sherlock headed home. He said hello to his parents and then went up to his room, locking the door behind him. He pulled the curtains shut and took off his clothes and slipped into bed. He lay there for a moment and then reached under the covers and began stroking himself. He was thinking about John. He couldn't tell if John liked him like that, but he definitely found John attractive. He went over the whole day in his head and he touched himself and then he came, quietly panting. He felt good.

John went home and, not having to make dinner, went straight up to his room to start his homework. Only he couldn't focus. He was thinking about seeing Sherlock again, playing out different scenes and conversations they could have. It took him too long to finish his homework. He heard his mum coming in before he got ready for bed, proof that it was late now. He could get up early and finish the rest in the morning.

As he set his alarm and went to bed, he thought about what they had talked about already--Sherlock asking about his romantic life, imploring him to figure out what he wanted. What would happen if he wanted Sherlock? They were so different, and Sherlock wasn't like anything he had thought he'd be attracted to, certainly nothing like the person everyone thought he should be with. It would be exciting, but he needed to work this out properly -- he couldn't get into this and use Sherlock just to be exciting. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what the tattoo looking like, drifting off to sleep on that note.


	3. Plans

The next morning Sherlock got up and headed out early. On the way to school, he got out his phone.

_Do you want to do something together this weekend? SH_

John was just finishing his homework when he got Sherlock's message. Good thing, too, because once again his focus had gone right out of the window. He considered the message -- this would be the first time in a long time that he didn't stay in all weekend. 

_Okay, yeah. -JW_

_Good. I'll still see you at college but I don't have classes after today so I wanted to make sure to ask. SH_

While John gets ready he can't help thinking about the fact that Sherlock had thought of him first thing in the morning, making him feel better about thinking about Sherlock all night.

_I'm bringing extra lunch so we can eat together again. -JW_

John made two sandwiches and packed two bags of crisps and two waters. He ate breakfast with his mum before they both left.

Sherlock went through his morning classes -- they were no more interesting than the ones at his last school, but he knew he just had to get through with them so he could eventually get to uni. Actually, at the moment, he just needed to get through until lunch when he could see John again.

As he left his last class, the teacher pulled Sherlock aside. "Holmes," he said. "I've heard you're quite clever -- I'm doing some research for an academic journal. Perhaps I could use your help. But we're going to need to do something about the look, I'm afraid. You'll need to appear more professional if you'd like to be respected."  
  
Sherlock looked up at him. "I'll take that information into consideration," he said dully. He turned and headed out to find John.

John went to their usual spot, ignoring the comments from his friends as he passed up their table again. He leaned against the wall and put Sherlock's lunch in his spot, starting on his own while he waited.

"Hey," Sherlock said as he sat down by John. "How's your morning been?"

"Hi. It's been good, yeah," he said. "How about yours?"

"Entirely what I expected," Sherlock said. "Is this for me then?" He leaned over and reached for the bag. "Are we going to keep getting each other food every time we see each other?" he added, smiling.

"I just want to distract your mouth so you don't smoke," John said, trying to ignore how that could have sounded and starting on his own sandwich. His own mouth needed to be distracted so he stopped saying stupid things.

Sherlock was a little surprised by that -- was John flirting with him? Maybe Sherlock was just misreading it because he fancied John; he reminded himself that not all guys fancied other guys and, even when they did, Sherlock's appearance was probably just too different for John's liking. They were just friends and Sherlock should keep his other feelings to himself and not project them. "I hate to break it to you," he said. "But I like smoking and until I don't anymore, I'll probably keep doing it -- food or not. But thanks for bringing this -- it's good." He took a bite to prove it.

"I'm glad you like it," John said. "So do you miss you other school?"

"Not really," Sherlock said. He looked over and tried to read John's face. Was it just friendly banter or was he trying to . . . what? He needed to be less suspicious -- well, of John, at least. "I had some trouble there, I guess you'd say . . . it was all a bit stupid really but . . . it was this fancy school but the instruction was no better than anywhere else and most of the students, well, were idiots, so no, I don't miss it."

John nodded and thought about how he would describe this school if he had to. "I suppose they're all the same, in the end. You get out as much as you put in." He bit his lip and glanced over. "No offense," he said quickly. He had the feeling Sherlock skipped a lot of classes, but then he felt bad again because he really didn't have any reason for that assumption. 

"I suppose you've never got in trouble much at school," Sherlock said. "You seem like someone who obeys rules, am I right?"

John nodded. "That's not a bad thing, even if it is uncool," he said. 

"Are you cool? Is that something you aim for?"

John shook his head. "You're cool," he said. "I'm . . . popular, I guess, because of rugby but that's all." He knew he had talked about this before with the others, about their status and the attention it got them from girls. But talking about it with Sherlock felt childish. He wished he hadn't brought it up. "Do you have extracurricular activities?" 

Sherlock laughed. "Is this a job interview?" he said.

"No! Sorry," he said. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Relax, I'm just teasing you," Sherlock said, reaching over and kind of bumping John's arm. He set the sandwich down and lay back flat on the grass. "When you get back from college today, what will you do? How will you spend the evening?"

John felt his arm go numb with warmth, and he took a moment to let it fade before answering. "I will make dinner for me and my mum and then I will do my homework. After I listen to music while I try and go to sleep," he said. 

"Is your mum nice?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah," John smiled softly. "She works a lot, usually doubles. That's why I always make dinner for her."

"That sounds like a nice evening," Sherlock said. "But you've got a sibling, yeah? Brother or sister?"

"I did -- no, that sounds bad. I do have a sister but she's not at home." John considered lying beside Sherlock in the grass but wondered if that would be weird. "Do you?" 

"A brother," Sherlock said. "He doesn't live with us, me and my parents, I mean." He rolled on his side. "So was there anything particular you wanted to do on Saturday?"

John thought about it for a moment. "Um . . .I hadn't thought about it, to be honest. Not seeing you -- that bit I thought about -- just not what we would do." He wondered if that was a strange thing to say. "Do you want to go to the art museum or something like that?" 

"Yeah, maybe," Sherlock said. "How about I come up with a few ideas and if you don't like them, we'll go to the art museum? I'll try to keep the options legal or at least mostly legal," he added, smiling.

John grinned. "Yeah, okay," he said. "Legal. All right?"

"If you insist," Sherlock said. He pushed himself up off the grass. "Cigarette," he explained and then stood up and moved on the other side of the fence to smoke it.

John sighed softly as he watched Sherlock smoking. He wondered what his mum would say if he brought Sherlock home to meet her. If he told his mum that Sherlock was his boyfriend. He flushed lightly and looked down at his knees as if Sherlock was going to read his mind. His friends would lose it -- he'd never hear the end of it. He glanced up at Sherlock again. He didn't want to care about that sort of thing. When the bell rang he gathered the trash and stood up. "Are you coming in now or . . .?" 

Sherlock had seen John looking at him, but had tried to act like he hadn't. He was worried he'd misinterpret it and he also wasn't sure if he'd made John uncomfortable already. "Yeah, fine," he said, throwing his cigarette down and stepping on it. "My class is on the second floor. Where's yours?"

"On the first," John said. He threw out the rubbish and ignored the boys looking over at them. One of them wolf whistled and John flicked him off. "Sorry," he said to Sherlock. He fixed his bag on his shoulder. "I'll see you later, yeah?" Once inside he raised his hand in a final wave and headed to his class. At least he wasn't late this time, but he felt as frazzled as if he had been. He was still trying to figure out why -- having a new friend shouldn't be causing him so much grief. _Trying to hide feelings for that friend might._ He rolled his eyes at himself and made his brain shut up and focus.  

They sat together in their next class which made it more enjoyable. They said goodbye, but by the time Sherlock's last class had finished, he felt desperate for a cigarette. He smoked one as he walked into town, trying to decide whether or not to go visit his grandmother but then he remembered that it was Wednesday and she played cards at this time. He got the bus home.

John took his notes and, with some difficulty, was able to keep Sherlock out of his head until he was going to practice. And then he saw Sherlock getting out a cigarette as he was leaving. He imagined what he might taste like when they kissed. _If_ they kissed -- oh God! He was really losing his head over this. He started the team on their drills and focused on each foot pounding into the ground, running and running until it was time to practice plays. He was tackled hard. He was not focused at all, and he didn't deny the accusations from the guys as they finished. 

"What's going on with you?" Greg asked, tugging John away from everyone else. "Is this about that new guy? Did he give you drugs or something?" 

"What?" John asked, swatting his hand away. "Don't be an idiot, Greg. You're better than that." He packed his back sloppily, trying to get out of there. "He looks different, that's no reason to assume he's a druggie and treat him like he's not human."

Greg rolled his eyes. "Whatever. You're not hearing the rumours --"

"What rumours? People always talk about stupid shit." He shouldered his bag. "When that stuff happened with Harry people talked shit about me too. It doesn't matter what people think." 

"You were the one desperately denying those rumours!" Greg pointed out. "No one actually cared if you were like her."

John rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well . . . everyone needs to grow up." He turned and left, knowing he hadn't made much sense. He remembered the whole school whispering about his being gay, just like his sister. He had been naive then, and he had argued it like it was something wrong. But it wasn't. The more time he spent with Sherlock, the more he believed that. He sighed and squeezed his temples. Everything was so overwhelming! He didn't even know if Sherlock was gay -- and even if he was, why would he want to be with John? He let himself in and started on dinner, cutting up potatoes. He bet Sherlock tasted like mints and cigarettes.  _  
_

When Sherlock got home, he went straight up to his room. He read for a little bit and then got online. Around ten, his mum knocked on his door.

"Yeah?" he called.

She stepped in. "Here," she said, setting a plate on his desk. "You never eat. I brought you some food, just in case."

"Thanks. I ate at college," he said, but he could tell she'd come in for more than just that.

"So this place is going to be all right then?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah, it's fine," he said. "I'm fine -- I told you, I'm done with all that. I'll prove it if you want me to."

"No, we believe you," she said, even though they both knew he'd have to prove it the next time he went to see the social worker. "Your classmates seem okay? Make any friends?"

"Not really," he said.

"But a little?" she asked.

"Maybe," he said.

"All right then," she said. "I'll leave you to your work. I know you don't go into college the rest of the week, but we've got that tutor coming tomorrow, you know. Be nice to her, yeah, because she understands your abilities and wants to challenge them."  
  
"I'll behave appropriately," he promised.

She smiled at him and shut the door.

Once he'd heard her go back downstairs, he pulled out his phone.

_I trust dinner was fine. Are you at the homework stage or have you moved on to the listening to music part of the evening? SH_

John smiled when he saw the message. 

_I am still doing homework, dinner went longer than I expected. -JW_

Sherlock pictured John sitting at a desk working. He wondered if he'd ever see John's bedroom.

_I've got a bank job to do tomorrow. Want to skip college and be my getaway driver? SH_

_I would consider skipping class if it involved keeping you from the bank job. -JW_

_I'll buy you something with the proceeds. Whatever you want as long as it's under a million. SH_

_Well, when you put it that way, I'm going to still say no. -JW_

_Fine, I'll buy you something anyway. What do you want, John? SH_

_I don't want anything._

John stared at the message and knew that Sherlock wouldn't find that an acceptable answer. He looked down in the bin beside his desk -- the only thing in there was the note Sherlock had written for him the first day. He pulled it out and read it again. _Take what you want._

_I want to not be so boring. -JW_

As soon as he sent it he felt his face flush. What a stupid answer! What was Sherlock supposed to do about that?

Sherlock stared at the reply. He wished John understood how very not boring he was. Sherlock Holmes did not like boring people, but he definitely liked John. But there was no way he could really explain how true that was.

_If that's what you're worried about, I can help with that. Free of charge. SH_

John gave up on his homework and moved to his bed, laying on his back. 

_I don't know if I have the guts. -JW_

_Of course you do. You know that. Maybe you just needed to meet someone to be brave with you. SH_

John bit his lip and turned on his side. Did he mean himself? He made it sound like he was destined to find John and pull him out of this mundane routine he'd been stuck in for so long. But that was so silly! He had never thought about these things before. What exactly was he going change? Stealing? Drugs? Was he going to get something pierced? 

_I don't know what I'm talking about. I think my homework fried my brain. -JW_

Sherlock sat up on his bed and thought carefully for a moment.

_This may seem odd to you, but I'm good at reading people. You are not boring, but if there's something you'd like to change about your life, let me help you. SH_

John stared at the message, trying to get his thoughts in the right order in his head. One thought kept pushing its way to the front, and he fought it, embarrassed to ask it. He clutched at his phone. 

_What's not boring? About me, I mean? -JW_

Sherlock thought very carefully -- he wasn't always good with words, especially when it came to feelings. He wished he could get someone's advice, but he could hardly run over to visit his grandmother at this time of night.

_There's just something about you. Whatever it is has made me want to get you know more. I guess I'm just trying to say I like you. You should like you too. I am very picky when it comes to other people. It must mean something that I like you. Trust me. SH_

John didn't know what he had expected. A list of qualities? But Sherlock's text was much better than that. He flushed and buried into his pillow for a second before he got himself together enough to answer back. 

_I do trust you. Thank you, Sherlock. I like you, too. -JW_

_Good. Now stop worrying, go back to work, and figure out how you want to spend that million. SH_

John smiled and shook his head. 

_No million. But I'll try to figure out your other question. -JW_

Sherlock smiled at what exactly John might come up with.

_Good night, John. Maybe I'll talk to you tomorrow. SH_

_Good night, Sherlock. -JW_

Sherlock logged off the computer and got up to take a shower. He put on his pajamas and then slipped into bed, turning the radio on softly to listen to as he fell to sleep.

John went back to his desk and finished his homework -- now that he knew Sherlock knew that John liked him, he found he could focus a little bit easier. Then he packed it all up and got ready for bed, putting his music on. He wondered what kind of music Sherlock liked and made a mental note to ask him tomorrow. He drifted off to sleep. 


	4. Tutor Talk

When Sherlock woke up in the morning, he lay there for a bit, listening to the quiet of the house. He eventually dragged himself out of bed and downstairs to make a cup of tea. He saw a note from his mother reminding him of the tutor. He glanced at the clock -- he had two hours until her arrival. He took his tea out into the back garden and sat in the morning sun for a bit.

John went from class to class, a bit dulled since he knew Sherlock wasn't here. It was odd -- he couldn't think with Sherlock here, and now he couldn't think without him here. Lunch was the worst. He made his way to the table with the rugby boys, but they spread out so there was no room for him. He looked over at Greg who had the decency to look ashamed, but he still didn't move to make room. John rolled his eyes and passed the table, going to Sherlock's spot and sitting there alone.

_Maybe instead of the bank you can come have lunch with me. -JW_

John opened his bag and started on his leftovers from the night before. He sighed softly. Suddenly Greg was there, sinking onto the grass beside him. John ignored him and went back to eating. 

"He's really all right?" Greg asked. 

John looked over at him and didn't answer. 

"It's just . . . " Greg continued. "There's never been anyone like him here before. Not just his looks. The things I've heard --"

"He hasn't killed anyone."

"Well, what about the drug stuff? Why did he get kicked out?"

John sighed loudly. "He's not into drugs, don't be stupid. If you're going to keep giving me a hard time, just go."

Greg shook his head. "No, I won't. I'm just curious, I guess."

"What if people were 'curious' about why your mum doesn't leave the house?"

"Fuck you," Greg said angrily. 

"He's a person just like us, Greg. Me and you tackle people on a field. He pierces his ear and wears black," John said. 

Greg opened his mouth and closed it again. "Okay. When you say it like that . . . okay, sorry," he said. "You guys are really friends, huh?"

John nodded. "I feel like . . . I don't know. Different. Better."

"You do seem different," Greg agreed. "I mean, you've always been . . . regular." He laughed when John raised his brows. "I just mean . . . predictable. Maybe he'll be good for you."

"Do you think now?"

"Shut up. I'm trying," Greg said. John rolled his eyes fondly and went back to his food, checking his phone to see if Sherlock had replied. 

Sherlock was dressed and waiting for the tutor when he got John's text.

_Too late. I'm in the middle of the job now. You've kind of blown my cover, really, but I think I'll make it out alive. Aren't you supposed to be learning or something? SH_

"You guys are texting?" Greg asked, leaning over to look. 

John leaned away from him. 

_Would you still like me if I told you I've called the police? -JW_

"You guys are really texting?" Greg asked again. 

"Yeah, so? Me and you text."

"No, we don't. Unless it's a question about practice or homework. I text girls."

John mixed his food around and thought about Sherlock's note, and about his confidence in John not being boring. John cleared his throat. "Well . . . I text Sherlock."

It hung in the air between them and John was sure he was going to pass out. What had he just admitted? He didn't even know himself. 

"Cool," Greg said, but his voice was different, like he was freaking out but trying to stay calm for John's sake. 

_Probably as long as you're willing to get used to me in prison garb. SH_

_I think I could. I'll wear boring clothes so you don't get jealous. -JW_

Sherlock felt like the tone of John's texts were a bit more like flirting but then he questioned his assumption again. Then he thought for a moment -- was he really reading all these clues wrong or perhaps John really did like him in that way as well? He tried to push his luck just a little. 

_I'll get a prison tattoo with your name if you'd like. SH_

John smiled. 

_I'll get a matching one with your name to prove my unwavering loyalty. Even though I snitched. -JW_

"What did he say?" Greg asked, trying to peak again. 

"He's going to get a prison tattoo for me when he robs a bank and gets arrested." The look Greg gave him made him burst out laughing. "I'm kidding, you idiot." Greg's visible relief made John grin again. 

Okay, Sherlock thought, this has got to be flirting. He shifted a little in his chair, trying to think of a good response, when the doorbell rang. 

_They've just pulled the alarm. I'll talk to you in bit -- I'll either be sitting on the cash or in a jail cell. SH_

He put his phone on silent and got up to answer the door.

_If it's the first option, I've decided what I want is to lie on top of it and throw it all around. If it's the second, my last name only has one T in it. -JW_

He waited for an answer but there wasn't another one. As he started packing up and heading inside, John wondered for a second if he was really fleeing a robbery. But he was probably just busy. He kept his phone close, just in case

Sherlock worked with the tutor for a couple hours. She was all right -- definitely smart but a bit dull. She talked about the things she'd studied at university, and they sounded much more interesting that anything he'd ever done in school. His mother came home right as the tutor was leaving, and he was pleased she saw him being polite to the woman. He had a cup of tea with his mum and then went up to his room. He took out his phone and read John's text. He glanced at the clock -- John would be home by now, but maybe he was in the middle of dinner with his mum. He waited a little while and then sent him a text.

_The money is safe and so am I. I decided to get the tattoo anyway, just in case. If you'd like to roll around on the cash, feel free to come over. SH_

John was upstairs doing homework when he got the message. 

_Glad to hear it. What does it look like? -JW_

_The money or the tat? SH_

_The tattoo. -JW_

Sherlock quickly scribbled John's initials on his palm and drew a heart around it. He took a photo and then sent it through to John.

_I hope you didn't pay for that -- it's awful. -JW_

_Cruel. We can use some of the cash to get yours done professionally then. SH_

John presumed it was a silly joke. He would never get a tattoo. Before he finished the thought, he was asking himself why not? 

_What does yours look like -- the real one you have? -JW_

_It says_ aut viam inveniam aut faciam _. SH_

John had seen the words written on Sherlock's wrist, but he wanted to know about the one he'd only seen peeking out of Sherlock's shirt.

_The one by your shoulder. -JW_

_It's the face of the last person who turned me into the cops. I'll get yours on the other shoulder if you want. SH_

_You don't have to tell me if it's personal. I don't have any, obviously. -JW_

_Has the rest of your day been all right? SH_

John felt a bit disappointed. Obviously Sherlock felt it was personal, too personal to share with John.

_Yeah. Same old day. How about yours? -JW_

_I spent all afternoon with a tutor. SH_

_A tutor? How come? -JW_

_So I can get further ahead in the sciences. SH_

Then Sherlock had an idea.

_She was kind of pretty. Maybe she's your type. Have you decided your thoughts on the romance business? SH_

John blinked at the message. That had come out of nowhere. He had thought -- what? He had been so caught up in imagining kissing Sherlock that he forgot that Sherlock wasn't into him like that. 

_I haven't, but I suppose I can meet her. -JW_

He hoped Sherlock would just forget about it and not actually go through with it. 

Sherlock frowned. 

_That's quite a change. Do you really want to meet her? SH_

_I don't know. You said it would be a good idea. -JW_

Now John sat up and tried to ease his stomach which was tumbling all over. He didn't like this at all.

_No, I didn't. I just said you might like her. SH_

_I don't even know her. -JW_

Sherlock sighed. He decided to try one more time.

_Well, what kinds of things do you like? For example, she's quite smart. Is that something important to you? SH_

_I guess so. -JW_

_She's kind of funny, I guess. Do you like that? SH_

For some reason John felt like crying. 

_Yeah. -JW_

Sherlock took a deep breath. 

_And she's a girl. Is that an essential detail for you? SH_

John felt like something had pierced his chest. His mind raced and he got paranoid. Who had Sherlock been talking to besides him? Who got to him with rumours?

_Don't talk to me anymore. -JW_

Sherlock stared at the text. Why would John say that? Had he gone too far -- had he misread all the flirting? He felt sick to his stomach.

_I'm sorry if I got it wrong. Please don't be angry. If you want to just be friends, that's enough for me. I'm sorry. SH_

_I don't understand what you're doing. Are you making fun of me? Who told you? -JW_

Now Sherlock was confused.

_Who told me what? SH_

John flushed darkly. Did he not know? Had John just outed himself?

_My sister is gay. When she came out, it was a big scene. Everyone was talking about it -- and about me. That I must be too. -JW_

_I didn't know about your sister. All I knew about her is what you told me. I'm sorry, John. I didn't mean to upset you. Please believe me. SH  
_

_Can we go back to talking about you robbing banks? -JW_

If Sherlock really didn't know, then they could just be normal again. When John sorted his feelings properly, he could figure out Sherlock's role then. He knew what he'd implied to Greg, but he had to do this in baby steps. He knew it was off to go back to joking around about the robbery stuff after his strong reaction, but Sherlock didn't have to know exactly how upset John had gotten. That was the good thing about texts.

Sherlock wasn't sure what precisely had happened, but he didn't want to push his luck.

_I hired the getaway car in your name. I hope that's all right. SH_

_I have an alibi so it'll never stick. -JW_

_I spelled it Wattson. It should buy you a little time. SH_

_Oh good. They will never find me now. -JW_

Sherlock wished he could see John's face to know that he was all right about the exchange. He promised himself not to get too wrapped up in his own crush -- he had to respect John's feelings, whatever they were.

_I'm going to go read for a bit. I'll talk to you later, okay? SH_

_Okay. -JW_

John flopped back and groaned loudly. He didn't understand what had happened. Why had Sherlock been pushing the tutor at him? It seemed so random -- unless it was some kind of test to see if the rumours were true. But he'd said he didn't know about those. What would Sherlock think if he knew the truth? And what exactly was the truth?

John had had some drifting thoughts about boys, but then he couldn't tell if he was confused because of everything going on or not. He still didn't think he was gay -- he still found girls attractive. It was easier not to think about it. But now he couldn't stop thinking about Sherlock, and that came with a lot of the accompanying thoughts he was trying to ignore. Was Saturday a date? Or just hanging out?

He put his music on and got ready for bed, even though it was a bit early. He lay down and closed his eyes. What if it was a date? Would Sherlock try to kiss him? Would John let him? He couldn't stop thinking about it . . . when he watched Sherlock talk it took effort not to stare at his lips. John imagined kissing them. His body started to feel warm and he slid his hand along his hip, hesitating. In his mind he unbuttoned Sherlock's shirt slowly, his mind putting a generic tattoo on his shoulder. His hand was gripping his cock now, stroking slowly. In his head Sherlock gripped John's shirt, pulled it over his head, and moved his hands down his chest and stomach. John was panting now, his mind jumping to further along -- neither of them had clothes on, their hips were rolling together, everything was touching and sliding together and suddenly John was coming in real life, a soft moan slipping out before he tried to catch his breath. 

"It's okay," he told himself out loud. He closed his eyes and covered his face with his arm. "It's okay."


	5. John, The Rebel

Sherlock had spent the rest of the night reading the work the tutor had left for him. He tried not to think about whether or not he'd ruined everything with John. He thought it'd be easier to broach the subject via text, but he hadn't been expecting John's reaction and it was hard to know from just the words exactly how big a mistake he'd made. He tried to think about Saturday -- hopefully John would still want to do something and it would all be okay again. He would keep his feelings to himself, and they could just enjoy the day.

In the morning, though, he woke up from what he realised was a bad dream. He couldn't remember the details at all, but John was in it and even though it was all in his head, Sherlock now felt a bit anxious. Maybe John wasn't really interested in being friends at all -- maybe this was all just some elaborate way of taking the piss? He dragged himself out of bed and showered and then decided to go into town to see his grandmother.

When John woke up, he felt disappointed. Sherlock hadn't texted him again, even though he said he would after reading. _He said later._ John knew that wasn't an exact time, but he had fallen asleep holding his phone just in case. He got ready and packed leftovers for lunch, heading to school and trying not to keep stressing about the night before.

"What's wrong?" Sherlock's grandmother asked the minute she saw his face.

He flopped down in the chair across from her. "I think I've . . . ruined everything," he said. "With John, I mean."

She exhaled a little sigh of relief. "Okay, tell me what's happened and I'll tell you if you've ruined it," she said.

"Well, we were texting and it kind of seemed like . . . flirting, I guess, and then I was trying to find out if he liked boys and it turns out his sister is gay and everyone was talking about him and then he got all weird and I think I've ruined it," he rambled.

His grandmother watched him as he spoke. It really was quite sweet -- he was so confident about so many things, but he was clearly still trying to work out how to handle feelings. "Well, I don't think it's ruined," she said. "I know texting is easier for you than talking is, but I think you'd have a better sense of things if you could talk to him." 

"What am I supposed to do, just ask him straight out?"

"Not necessarily," she said. "But if you can talk to him, you'll be able to tell if it's ruined. You're good at that, you know that." She smiled a little. "Are you going to see him at school today?" She glanced over at the clock. "Wait, are you supposed to be at college today? I don't want your mum over here, shouting at me for allowing you to skive. You should go."

"Relax," he said. "I don't go in on Thursday or Friday. Mum knows -- she set it up so I could get tutoring and, you know . . . not be distracted by bad children at school who'll make me do bad things," he added sarcastically.

She rolled her eyes at his sarcasm. "Well, when are you going to see him again? I just think you'll feel better if you can talk to him."

"Well, we were going to do something tomorrow, but I guess I don't know if it's a good idea."

"Of course, it's a good idea," she said. "Your ideas are usually good. Do young people call each other anymore? Maybe you could call him -- even if you could just hear his voice, you'll be able to tell, you know that's true."

"I could meet him at school, I guess. I know where he goes at lunch," he offered.

"But only do it if you can be your normal self," she said softly. "If you act all nervous . . . well, just be yourself. Even if he just wants to be friends, he likes you for you, so don't have the face you had when you walked in here."  
  
"That is my normal face," Sherlock laughed, relaxing a bit. His grandmother always helped.

"It is not," she said. "It's an I-don't-know-what-I'm-doing face and Sherlock Holmes doesn't wear that face well."  
  
"Well . . . I don't know what I'm doing," he said quietly.

"You do, Sherlock," she said gently. "I know this business isn't quite as logical as you'd like it to be, but you do know -- trust yourself. If this John is smart enough, he'll appreciate your friendship."

Sherlock felt his face redden a little. He tried to accept what she was saying. "All right," he said. "Maybe I'll go round and see him in a bit."

"Good," she said. "Fine, all right, so where's my present? You usually bring me something -- where is it? I'm done being nice now."

He laughed a little. "Here," he said, pulling a betting slip out of his pocket. "You know I never come empty handed. Fill it out and I'll place the bet for you this afternoon."

She smiled and grabbed the paper.

Greg walked with John between classes. Things seemed to be back to normal between them, which was good. The rest of the team didn't matter as much to John -- Greg was the only one out of all of them that he would consider a real friend so as long as that was settled, he was okay. Greg asked about Sherlock, his voice still changing a bit into something forced, but John knew he was trying so he vaguely said that things were fine and that they had plans over the weekend. The subject moved along to exams, and John felt relieved Greg didn't press him for information.

Sherlock stayed with his grandmother until almost lunch time. She fussed his hair a bit before he left, and he slowly made his way over to the school. He didn't go onto the grounds, but stood by the fence where he and John had had lunch. He wished he had texted John, but now it was too late. There were still people around, but he couldn't see John.

After eating lunch, John got up and decided to throw his rubbish in the bin outside. just to look at where he and Sherlock had eaten together. And then he saw Sherlock. He glanced back at the school before moving towards the fence. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you," Sherlock said honestly. He remembered his grandmother's advice. "I felt bad about last night -- getting things wrong -- and I just wanted to see if you were okay . . . if you still wanted to be friends."

John flushed and looked down, picking at the fence. "We're fine -- I just over reacted," he said. He looked up at Sherlock again. "I'm glad you stopped by, but I'm going to be late . . ."

"Hey," Sherlock said, putting his hands up to the fence. "Don't go." He glanced at his watch. "I mean, do you have to go? Could you miss one class? I doubt you've ever skipped one -- why don't you today? Just start the weekend a little early?"

John looked up at him again. "I can't skip, I . . ." He looked back at the school. It was only history, and they probably wouldn't be covering anything new.

"Well, I guess I'll just stand here stupidly waiting for you then," Sherlock said, smiling. "I just wanted to hang out for a little while but if you think listening to your professor cover information you probably already know is more important, I guess I'll just wait. Unless, just once, you want to take a chance," he added encouragingly.

John's eyes found Sherlock's again. He already had his homework in his bag, he knew he wouldn't be getting more in his history class, so why would it matter? His heart was pounding. "Okay," he said. He gripped the fence and jumped over as if it was a player on the field. "Do you have a car?"

Sherlock smiled. "No, we'll make our escape on foot," he said in mock seriousness. "Come on." He rushed off quickly down the side street until they were well out of view of the school. He stopped and leaned against the wall. "I told you I didn't run much," he said, panting a little but trying to smile.

John was fine, looking around and jittering from the thrill of having left school like that. He couldn't believe he'd done it. "Are we really going on foot?"

"Yes, this is an old school breakout, John Watson," Sherlock said. "No cars, no phones, just us and our clever deviousness. Okay?" he asked.

John nodded. "Okay," he said. He was still looking around, grinning stupidly.

"All right, first things first," Sherlock said. "Let's go join a biker gang." He smiled at how cute John looked smiling.

"Baby steps, Sherlock," he laughed, jumping around a bit.

"All right," Sherlock said. "Let's go get something to drink until we calm down and _then_ we'll join a gang." He headed off and after crossing a few streets, he led John into a bookshop. "They've got a little coffee bar upstairs," he said, heading to the back to get the lift. When the door shut, he turned to John and said, "Don't regret this -- it's not a big deal, let's just have fun."

John nodded, holding the straps of his bag. "Will they know I'm gone? I should have left my bag."

"John, it doesn't matter," Sherlock said. "Trust me -- we'll go back on Monday and no one'll say anything because no one cares." The doors opened and they stepped out. "What do you want?" he said, moving up to the counter. "I'll pay for yours, you pay for mine and that way it's fair, okay?"

John flushed. "I didn't -- I don't have money because I didn't think we were going out until tomorrow."

"Fine, I'll get this, but I don't want two pounds to come between so you can pay me back tomorrow, yeah?" Sherlock said, smiling to let him know he was teasing. They got two teas and Sherlock carried them to a table in the corner. "So," he said. "You've broken a rule. Do you feel less boring than you felt before?"

"I'll pay you back, I promise," John said as they sat down. "I do feel less boring. This is the craziest thing I've done."

"Well, we need to change that," Sherlock laughed. "I've been coming up with a list of things for us to do. By the end of the month, you'll be the least boring person in that college, presuming you haven't yet been kicked out." He took a sip of tea. "I'm teasing obviously. You know I already think you're the most interesting and besides, there's no use doing stupid stuff just to do it. That's not the point of any of this."

John still couldn't stop smiling. "What's the point? It's not for the thrill? It's mad that I think this is a thrill, isn't it?"

"The point is that sometimes it's okay to just stop and think 'What do I want to do right now?' and then just do it," Sherlock said.

John nodded. "That's a good way to live," he said. "I'm jealous."

"You can be like that too, John," Sherlock said. "You want to be a doctor so sometimes you'll want to study. Your mum's nice so sometimes you'll want to make her dinner. And sometimes you'll want to rob a bank and you'll do that," he added. "Your life doesn't have to feel like a routine -- stop thinking it has to be that way."

"I know," he said. "I know that."

"So," Sherlock said. "What do you want to do next?"

John thought for a moment. "I want to go to the shops while everyone is busy and they're not crowded."

"Whoa, steady there, John," Sherlock laughed. "That's pretty hardcore -- you sure you're ready for that?"

John flushed. "Don't tease me. I'm new at this."

"You're doing great," Sherlock said. "You look very cool, very handsome." The word came out before he'd really thought about it, and he wished he hadn't said it. "What shop then?" he added quickly so John might not notice his comment.

"The sweet shop," John said. "I'll get you some this time." And then he remembered he didn't have any money.

"I'll get them -- I'll put it on your tab," Sherlock said. "I need to go to the betting shop as well. There's a news agents next door so we can get the sweets."  
  
"Okay. But I'm keeping track of the money so don't think I'll forget," John said. "And what are we going to a betting shop for? I mean, do you place bets?"

"I . . . well, my biker gang does and I'm the one who goes to the shop for them," he said. "Let's hope they're lucky -- they get fucking mental when they lose." He watched John's face.

John looked over at him and thought about that. "I think you're lying to me," he said. "But I don't know about which part."

"Fine, it's for my grandmother," Sherlock said. "She does go mental when she loses. And that is the truth." He emptied his mug and said, "Let's go."

"But are you really in a gang?" John asked as he stood and followed Sherlock out of the coffee bar.

Sherlock stopped and looked over at him. "Do you want me to be?" he asked seriously.

John shrugged. "I can't tell you what to do," he said.

"I don't mean that, I mean, do you wish I were? Would that somehow make my friendship more valuable if I were in a gang or if I had actually killed someone, like you thought at the start?"

"No!" John said quickly. "No. I was just curious. I'm still learning stuff about you so I'm just curious."

"Okay," Sherlock said. "Sorry -- I know I've been teasing you, but I don't want to let you down. I'm just me, I guess, is all I'm trying to say."

"You won't let me down," John said.

"Good," Sherlock said. He had a cigarette as they walked into the city centre. "Want one?" he asked, offering him the packet.

John shook his head. "No. And if you're going to change things about me, I wouldn't mind changing that about you."

Sherlock put the pack away, secretly pleased John didn't take one. He wanted to be with the real John, not someone who was using their friendship as an excuse to be naughty. When they got to the betting shop, Sherlock asked, "Do you want to come in or wait out here?"

John looked through the window. "I'll come in," he said.

Sherlock led them up to the till. He pulled the slip out of his pocket and handed it to the guy. "Hold on," the man said and went in the backroom and then came out with an envelope which he sealed and then handed to Sherlock.

"Thanks," Sherlock said and then they walked out. "Sweets?" he asked.

John looked around the shop curiously, then at Sherlock's transaction. He didn't say anything until they were back outside. "Yeah. Is that the money, then?"

Sherlock nodded. "He takes this week's bets out of last week's winnings. It's hard to tell how much is in here," he said squeezing it. "I'd guess there's at least twenty notes in here, but it depends on the domination."

"How often do you go there?"

"Just once a week," Sherlock said. "So did you enjoy your first trip to a betting shop?"

John chuckled. "I don't know what I expected," he said.

"When I was little, my grandmother said women weren't allowed in, but I think she was just using that an excuse to be lazy," Sherlock said. He smiled but before they got to the door of the new agents, Sherlock grabbed John's shoulder and pulled him to the side. "You're skiving, you went into a betting shop, why not take one more chance?" he said in a hushed voice.

John looked around. "What kind of chance?" he asked quietly.

"You wanted to get me some sweets, right?" Sherlock said. "Well, go get me some." It was a little challenge.

"I don't have any money," he said, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth he realised what Sherlock meant. "No, I can't steal them!"

"It's a victimless crime, John. It's not a bank robbery. That guy in there overcharges on everything," Sherlock said. He put his hands on John's shoulders. "Look, you don't have to if you don't want to, but I think you kind of want to. I'll help. What do you think?" 

"I . . . I . . ." John was stammering, looking around, trying to plan his escape. He looked back to Sherlock, into his eyes, and nodded. "Okay. Do I . . . do I just take them?"

"I'll go in first and keep the guy distracted," Sherlock said calmly. "You wait a minute and then come in and take them. I like Parma Violets -- they're on a shelf near the back. As soon as you've got them, go and I'll follow. We'll meet down at the McDonalds, there's always a crowd round there," he said. He looked at John's eager but nervous face. "What do you think?"

John was blinking too much and not breathing enough. He nodded. "Okay," he said. "Okay."

"All right, I'll go in," Sherlock said. "Give me a like a minute and then come in."

Sherlock opened the door and heard the bell dangling above it. He stopped for just a second at the newspapers and then made his way over to the till. "Nice day, isn't it?" he said to the man. "Can I get ten Silk Cut, please?"

John followed behind him and pretended to be browsing the shelves. He couldn't believe he was about to nick something! For a second he hesitated, wondering if he really wanted to do this or if he wanted to impress Sherlock, but then he moved forward. He wanted to feel the rush. He went to the back and found the Parma Violets. He grabbed a handful, looking around before pushing them into his pocket. He made for the door, walking very quickly.

Sherlock had slid a five pound note on the counter when the man turned to get the cigarettes. Through his peripheral vision, he saw John's movement and said, "Forget it," before turning and heading out, leaving the money on the counter to pay for John's crime.


	6. Kissing

Sherlock saw John ahead of him so he broke into a run and grabbed his arm, turning him. "You did it," he laughed.

John gasped when he was grabbed, but it was only Sherlock, grinning down at him. John couldn't feel his legs, and his heart was pounding as he laughed with Sherlock, waiting to get caught any second. But no one was running or shouting and John felt . . . good! He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help it. And suddenly he was tugging on Sherlock and kissing his mouth.

Sherlock thought he should pull away, thought he should stop and ask John if he were sure this was what he wanted. But he couldn't do those things, because he was kissing John back. The two of them stood there stupidly, kissing in the middle of the city centre. 

When John's brain caught up, he pulled back, looking anywhere but Sherlock as he apologised over and over again. "I . . . I got carried away and I just . . .sorry." He was fishing in his pocket to get the sweets out.

"Don't," Sherlock said. "Don't say any of that." He stepped away a little and then grabbed John's arm, dragging him over to a bench. "You were meant to do what you wanted." He looked over at him. "Is that what you wanted to do?"

John swallowed hard and nodded. He met Sherlock's gaze. "I . . .I want to again," he said softly.

"Well, come on," Sherlock said, grabbing him again, pulling him up. "Not in the street, you pervert." He pulled him down a little alley. He stopped and said, "Well, can I have the sweets?"

John flushed lightly and nodded, pulling out the fistful of candy from his pocket. "I stole them," he said. 

"You did, you little criminal, you," Sherlock said. "Thanks for the sweets," he added, leaning in and giving him a little kiss on the cheek.

John felt his cheeks heat again. "A proper one," he mumbled, glancing from his eyes to Sherlock's lips. 

Sherlock smiled and leaned in again, giving him a soft kiss on the lips. "That better?"

John smiled sheepishly and nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Sherlock . . . I still don't know exactly what I am but . . . but I like you," he said. 

"John," Sherlock said. "I like you . . . whatever you are."

John licked his lips and nodded. People were going to lose their minds when they found out about this. He reached up and touched Sherlock's cheek, trying to remind himself that it didn't matter what they thought. 

Sherlock looked at his watch. "You ready for one more adventure?" he asked.

"I don't know if I can take it," John said.

"Come on," Sherlock said. He grabbed his hand and headed off walking, leading him up to care home. "We've got to sign in," he said, scribbling his name on the paper.

John signed his name under Sherlock's and followed close to him. "Are you going to see your grandma?"

"Yeah, to give her her winnings," Sherlock said. "And so she can meet you." They walked down the hallway and then Sherlock motioned for John to stay back for a second. He stepped in front of the open door and said, "Are you decent? I've brought a guest."

She smiled when she saw Sherlock and then lifted her hand to her hair to straighten it. "Who is it?" she asked.

Sherlock looked over and motioned for John to come in. "It's my friend," he said.

John was going to suggest he stay in the hall, but then Sherlock said he wanted him to come inside so he fussed his hair and tried to straighten his clothes a bit. When he walked in his stomach was twisting with nerves. "Hello," he said, raising his hand.

Sherlock's grandmother was watching Sherlock, but then she turned her eyes to the boy coming in. "You must be John Watson," she said. "It's very nice to you. Come in, come in . . . sorry it's a bit of a mess in here." She waved him over. "Put the kettle on, Sherlock, will you?"

Sherlock moved over to the kettle and turned it on, rinsing the cups in the little sink. "John and I have had an interesting afternoon," he said.

John moved more into the room and sat in a chair across from Sherlock's grandma. He could see some similarities between them. When Sherlock spoke John looked up at him with slightly wide eyes. He wasn't going to tell her, was he?

"John went to a betting shop for the first time," Sherlock said, pulling the envelope out of his pocket and passing it to his grandmother. He carried her tea over first and set it down on the table and then brought his and John's over. He sat down on the edge of the bed. 

"Yes, well, thank you," she said, ripping open the envelope and quickly counting the money. "It's just a little bit of fun," she explained to John. "It's okay to have one bad habit."  
  
Sherlock laughed a little.

"Shut up you," she said, smiling. She pulled two notes out of the envelope and gave each of the boys a twenty.

"Thanks," Sherlock said and slipped it into his pocket.

John shook his head. "Oh no, I don't -- that's not necessary," he said. 

"Take it, John," Sherlock said. "You won't win this battle -- she is the most stubborn woman in the world. She'll wear you down eventually so just take it."  
  
"It's true," his grandmother smiled. "So, John Watson, what are you studying?"

John took the note and folded it carefully. "Thank you," he said. "Um, I am going to be a doctor," he said. 

"That's quite impressive," she said. "So what's your diagnosis for Sherlock?" she added, glancing over at her grandson. "I know he's legally a genius but I'm wondering if he's more of an idiot savant?" she teased.

"You're horrible," Sherlock laughed.

John smiled, unsure if he should laugh or not. "I'm still trying to work him out," he said, hoping that was okay. She seemed to have a good sense of humour. 

"Yes, he's a bit of a mystery," she said fondly. "And you? Are you a mystery as well?"

"Not really," he said. "I'm bor--" He looked at Sherlock and shook his head. "I'm not a mystery."

"He's a bad ass," Sherlock said, smiling. "I'm worried his influence will corrupt me."

His grandmother laughed. "Well, I'm happy to have two hoodlums on my payroll now," she said. "In case I need anyone taken care of."

"She keeps trying to get me to bump off all her enemies," Sherlock said.

"Well, perhaps now that you've got some muscle behind you, you'll stop letting me down," she said.

John grinned. "I play rugby, too. I can take them," he said.

"Good," Sherlock's grandmother said. "So are you boys doing something together this evening?"

"We're meeting tomorrow again," John said. He refrained from saying date, just in case she didn't know.

"Ah, yes, I think Sherlock mentioned that," she said. "Are you going to do something fun?"

Sherlock glanced at his watch and stood up. "Yes, I'm sure it'll be fun," he said. "We should probably get going, I think."

John stood up as well and pulled his bag on again, smiling at Sherlock's grandma. "Thanks again," he said.

"I'm really glad for the chance to meet you," she said.

"Do you need anything before I go?" Sherlock asked.

"No, I'm fine," she said, squeezing his arm softly. She looked up and gave him a special smile. 

"All right, I'll see you soon," he said. He led John out. 

"Well, that's my grandmother," he said to John once they were out on the street.

"She's nice," John said. "She didn't have to give me money. I mean, that's not why I think she's nice!" he added quickly. "She just is."

"She is," Sherlock said. "Look, I don't know if you've noticed the time, but I don't want you to be late for your dinner with your mum. Maybe we should just head home?"

"My mum won't be home until late, I just get it ready. You can come if you want, or I'll walk you home."

Sherlock wasn't sure what he should do. He was really enjoying being with John, but wondered if perhaps it would be better to part now. But then again, that gave John time to think and maybe he'd realise he'd made a horrible mistake kissing Sherlock and they'd never see each other again. "Um, maybe I should get home," he decided. "But we can still do something together tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah, of course," John said. "I'll see you tomorrow." He turned, hesitated, turned back and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, and then hurried off again.

"Thanks," Sherlock said. He made his way to the bus stop, pretty pleased with how the day had gone.

John walked home and started making dinner. When he took his phone out to charge, he had twelve missed calls from Greg. He had forgotten about practice!

"Shit," he grumbled, calling him back. "Don't shout--"

"Where the hell were you? You went out to throw away your rubbish and disappeared!"

"I skipped my last class. I forgot about practice."

Silence. And then Greg said, "Look, I know you have a new friend or whatever --"

"It's not about him," John said.

"Please! We both know you'd never skip. And miss practice?" Greg scoffed. "What is going on?"

"Everything is fine! It was just one time, one class. I'm allowed that, once in a while."

"Just be careful," he said. He hung up and John rolled his eyes at the phone. He knew what he was doing. At least he was pretty sure he did.

At home, Sherlock made a pot of tea and was sitting outside with his cup when his parents got home. His mum brought her cup out to join him.

"Thanks for the tea," she said. "That was nice of you. Is something going on?"

He looked over at her. "You mean because I'm being nice?"

"No, I don't, Mister Sarcasm," she said, smiling. "I mean, because you've got . . . some look on your face. I can't tell quite what it is."

"I just had a good day, I guess," he said. "First day of the week with no course work. Just . . . relaxing, I guess." He took a sip of tea and looked out into the garden.

"Did you go see your grandmother?" she asked. 

"Of course," he said.

"And did she win anything this week?" she asked.

"Of course," he said. He turned back to look at her. "Would you mind if I took the bike out tomorrow?" he asked.

She thought for a moment. She knew it wasn't the motorcycle that had caused her son's problems -- it was his stubbornness and curiosity really, both of which were things she also quite loved about him. But the motorcycle had been something concrete that they could control. Something they could forbid, even though doing that, again she knew, had had no result on the outcome.

Sherlock knew she was considering the options. In fact, he had a pretty good idea precisely what she was thinking. It wasn't his parents' fault, they were parents after all -- it was their job to look after him. "I was well behaved at college, I went to every class, I was good with the tutor, I've done all my work," he reminded her.

"Well, maybe we should just wait until after your appointment next week," she offered.

"Please," he said, his voice a bit more desperate than he'd hoped to reveal. "That'll be the fine, I promise. It's nothing to do with the bike. You know that, I know you do."

"Will you be on your own then?" she asked.

Now Sherlock considered his options. It'd be easy to lie, but he'd promised not to and the only reason to lie is to avoid the inevitable questions. That's the thing about inevitability, though. It would happen eventually. So finally he said, "No. I was going to take my new friend out to Grandmother's house."

She didn't say anything for a moment, mostly pleased at his honesty. "Have you asked her if this is all right?"

"No," he said. "But she's said before it's fine to ride out there." He took another sip. "And she's met him."

"I see," his mother said. There was a part of her that felt a little disappointed, but she also knew that her mother's relationship with Sherlock was something that kept him right so she really couldn't be too jealous. "And could I get a little information on this friend?"

"His name is John Watson," he said. "He's going to be a doctor, he plays rugby, and he has never done anything of which you'd disapprove." He turned to her again. "In all honesty, we are entirely different in almost every way. I'm not even sure why we like each other."

"But you do?" his mother interrupted.

"Yes, it seems we do," Sherlock said. He smiled a little. "I'm telling you, Mum," he said, his voice now a bit more relaxed. "I think you will quite like him as well."

She smiled back at him. "All right then," she said. "Be back before it gets dark, though, and just . . . you know, be careful and all that." She took a drink. "I hope I can meet this John Watson one day."

"You will," he said. When they'd finished their tea, they both went back inside.

When dinner was finished John went up to his room and took out his homework. Then he moved to the bed instead.

_I'm going to listen to music and then do my homework tonight. -JW_

Sherlock was upstairs reading through some of the books his tutor had left him.

_Shaking up your routine a bit? SH_

_Sure. Why not? -JW_

_Do you still want to do something tomorrow? SH_

_Yes, of course. -JW_

Sherlock sighed with relief and then his phone went again.

_Do you? -JW_

_Of course. SH_

He paused for a moment and then sent another one.

_Do you feel okay about earlier? SH_

_Yeah. Am I still cool if I want to go pay for the sweet? -JW_

_No, I'm afraid you are not. SH_

Sherlock smiled and took a deep breath before sending the next text.

_I meant about the other thing that happened. In the alley. SH_

John bit his lip and thought back. He'd been so caught up in it all -- what if Sherlock hadn't wanted to kiss him? Now he couldn't even remember if Sherlock had kissed back or not. But he did the second time, he must have wanted to as well.

_I'm nervous, because I don't know how you feel about it. But I don't regret it. -JW_

_I don't regret it either but I don't want to cause you any trouble. SH_

_I know. You won't cause me trouble. I'm going to sort out my head, but I won't take that out on you. Everything is fine. -JW_

Sherlock wished there were some kind of guarantee he wouldn't cause problems for John. He wished he had John's optimism.

_I just don't want to be the one responsible for something you'll later regret. SH_

_I don't want you to worry about me. I may not be cool, but I'm tough. I promise it'll be okay. -JW_

Sherlock wasn't quite sure what to make about that. It was actually quite cute, but it didn't stop his worrying. But he didn't want to upset John so he decided to keep all that to himself for now.

_All right, tough guy. What time should I pick you up tomorrow? SH_

_It doesn't matter, I'll be home all day. -JW_

_I'll come get you at noon then. Does that work? SH_

_That's perfect. Will it be another old fashioned walking date? -JW  
_

_No, we'll have transport this time. SH_

_Yeah? Do you have a cool car, too? -JW_

_Afraid not. I hope you're not too disappointed. SH_

_I'm sure it'll be fine. -JW_

_Part of the day will be spent outdoors. Is that all right? SH_

_Yes. Should I bring anything? -JW_

_I think I've got everything sorted. Bring a little money in case we think of anything else. SH_

_I'm supposed to treat you on our date, I haven't forgotten. -JW_

_I forgot. Then be sure to bring a couple thousand in case I fancy something special. SH_

_Okay. Who needs to go to med school anyway. :) -JW_

Sherlock smiled. He glanced at the clock.

_I think I'm going to get ready for bed now. Don't stay up too late. You'll need energy for tomorrow. SH_

_Cool people go to bed whenever they want. -JW_

_Fine, Mister Cool Person. But no complaining tomorrow. SH_

_I have homework to finish anyway. - JW_

_I'll text you before I head over tomorrow. Good night, John. SH_

_Good night, Sherlock. -JW_

John left his phone charging on the bed while he got his homework and started working on it. It was easier to concentrate when he spoke with Sherlock, when his mind had something proper to think about rather than making something up about the two of them that he wished would happen. After an hour he called it a night, figuring he could finish the rest on Sunday. Tomorrow he would focus on nothing but his date with Sherlock. They had a date! He got ready for bed, turned on his music, and played every possibility in his head before he drifted off to sleep. 


	7. The Date

In the morning John groaned as he groped for the alarm, for a second thinking he had to get up for college. Then he remembered his date and he shot out of bed, hurrying around his room to get ready. He took a shower and picked out his clothes three different times before he was satisfied. He pulled money out from his hiding place in his pants drawer and went down to the kitchen for a small breakfast in case they went for lunch. His mum was at the table, smiling up at him when he walked in. 

"Morning, love," she said. 

"Morning, Mum." He put a couple slices of bread in the toaster and poured his tea. 

"You know it's Saturday, yeah?" she smiled. 

"I know," he said. "I . . . I have a date."

Now she turned in her seat and raised her brows. "A date? Do you need the car to take her?"

John bit his lip. "No, um . . ." He fiddled with the toaster and the jam. "No, he's picking me up."

"He?"

John took a deep breath. "He's new, just came to our school."

"I didn't realise -- is this because of your sister? Are you confused?"

John shook his head. "I'm not confused. I don't know, Mum. I don't have a label for it. I just know I like him a lot."

She was quiet for a moment. "I just . . . I don't understand you kids." She took her mug and the paper and left him in the kitchen alone. He knew Harry had tarnished all of this in his mum's eyes, but he also knew that it wasn't the gay thing that did it, but the drinking part that ruined everything. Hopefully she would think it over and realise that John wasn't like Harry in that way. 

When Sherlock woke up, he was quite excited about the day. He tried to act quite naturally around his parents, particularly his mum after their talk yesterday. He got himself showered and dressed and put together a backpack of things they might need. Before he left, he texted John.

_Ready? Can you send your address? SH_

_I'm ready. -JW_

John attached his address and went to brush his teeth. Then he moved to the bottom of the stairs. "Mum? I'm leaving," he called up. 

"Be careful," she called back. 

John waited a second more before stepping outside to wait for Sherlock. 

Sherlock went out to the shed and pulled his motorcycle out. He wiped it down a little and then unlocked the bin on the back. He pulled out the blanket inside to give it a shake and when he did, a small pipe fell to the drive. He felt a panic, but he bent down and picked it up, carrying it and the blanket inside the house.

"Mum, can I . . . can you come here for a moment?" he asked. He stepped into the pantry.

She glanced over at her husband and then followed Sherlock into the pantry, shutting the door behind them. "What's wrong?"

"I found this in my bike," he said, handing her the pipe. "I thought they were all gone. I've not touched it since . . . you know I've not been near that bike. I don't want it obviously, but I didn't know what to do with it."

His mother took the pipe, closing it in her hand. She did her best to stay calm. "Thanks for bringing it to me," she said quietly.

"I want you to trust me," he said. "You can trust me."

She smiled. "All right," she said. "Now get on your way and have fun with your friend."

He leaned in and gave her a small kiss, something he rarely did. "Thanks," he said. He threw the blanket into the washing machine and grabbed two clean ones from the cupboard. "I'm off then," he said.

"Keep your phone on -- just in case," she called from the other room.

"I will," he said and went back outside. He got on his bike and headed to John's. He saw John outside the house when he pulled up in the street. He waved to him but didn't get off his bike.

John narrowed his eyes when the man on the bike waved him over. Then he realised it was Sherlock and his eyes widened. He hurried over and stood on the pavement. "I thought you had an uncool car."

"No car," Sherlock said. "You okay to ride with me?" He turned around and opened the bin, pulling out an old leather jacket. "You can wear this and the helmet." He held them out. "I'm safe, you can trust me."

John took the jacket and helmet slowly. "Maybe I can meet you . . . I can take my mum's car," he said. 

Sherlock looked over at John. "Can we try?" he asked. "I'll just go up and down the street first, I'm careful. You'll see -- I'll look after you. And if you hate it, I'll leave it here and we can get a taxi. What do you say?"

John bit his lip. "No. We don't have to do that. I trust you." He put the jacket on and climbed on behind Sherlock. Then he put the helmet on and wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist, probably more tightly than he needed to. 

Sherlock put a hand down on his stomach over John's. "Just follow my body," he said. "Don't try to stay straight or think too much -- just hold on and we'll be fine." He started the bike and took off, being extra careful until John got used to the ride.

John was holding on too tightly as they sped along the street. They were going so fast! So fast that he knew if anything were to happen he wouldn't even have time to think about it. For some reason that made him feel calmer. He relaxed his grip a bit, looking around as they went. 

Sherlock liked the feel of John's body so close to his. He went through town and then headed out. He kept his speed to the limit and didn't take any chances. Eventually he pulled into the long driveway of his grandparents' home, nodding to the caretaker who was working in the front garden. When he stopped, he turned off the bike and turned to John. "You okay?" he asked.

John slowly pulled off of him and took the helmet off. He was grinning stupidly again. "Yeah, fantastic. I should listen to you more often," he said. 

Sherlock looked back on John's hair, a bit fly away from the static of the helmet, and instinctively ran his hand over it. "You get off first," he said. "And then we're going on a walk."

John flushed and smiled more fondly as he slid off of the bike. He kept the jacket on even though it was a bit small on his shoulders. 

Sherlock opened the bin and took out his backpack and then blanket and then locked the helmet inside. They walked around the back of the house and pointed down the long garden to some woods at the bottom. "We're headed down there," he said. "Inside the woods is a little lake, I thought we could hang out there for a bit."

"Okay," John said. "This is a nice place. Whose is it?"

"My grandmother's," Sherlock said. "She lived here until just a few months ago. The staff's still here and everything, because she's hoping to come back soon. It's good, though, right? It feels like we're a million miles away from everyone else. I kind of like that."

"Are you going to murder me in the woods?" John asked, grinning at him.

Sherlock scowled a little. "No," he said. "Probably not. Are you going to tie me up and rob me . . . I know how you are about stealing now." He looked over at John. "Should we race the rest of the way?"  
  
"We can, but you should know I'm an excellent runner."

"Fine, but I'm carrying this bag so I get a head start," Sherlock said calmly and then took off running.

"You have to say go!" John said, taking off as fast as he could behind him. He laughed as he easily passed Sherlock. 

"That's cheating!" Sherlock called as he slowed a little. There was no way he could run faster than John. He walked briskly, following John, and then said, "Come back!"

John looked around and jogged back to Sherlock. "Should I have let you win to be nice?" he asked, still smiling and panting softly.

"No," Sherlock said. "I don't mind you humiliating me if you feel the need to. But we need to head that way," he added, pointing to the right. They walked a little further and pushed into the woods a bit and then they were at a small lake. It was quite pretty really -- Sherlock liked spending time here. He could hear the birds, there were even sometimes ducks on the water, but there were no people around and he liked that part best. He looked over. Now another person was here, but it was John and Sherlock had invited him and he was glad they were together. He dropped his bag on the ground and then spread out the blanket. "Let's sit here for a while," he said.

John looked around and felt his stomach turning nervously. This was a very romantic date. A lot more romantic than anything he'd expected. "This is really nice," he said, as he sat down on the blanket.

Sherlock sat down next to him. "It is, it's good," he said. Then he lay back and looked up at the sky. "Lie back . . . There are billions of people in the world, John," Sherlock said, a bit dreamily. "There are billions of things happening -- people being born, people dying, living, working, fighting -- all of that. And none of that matters right now. Right now it's quiet here and there's just me and you."

John swallowed hard and licked his lips. "I like how you make me feel. Like that's a good thing. Like . . .I'm not in my routine but I don't feel anxious. Like this is just as important as all of that. And it is, to me." He was glad he was looking up at the sky and not at Sherlock. He wasn't good at vocalising feelings like this.

Sherlock listened to John's voice and just lay there quietly for a little while longer. "I don't usually get along with other people . . . but I like how you make me feel as well," he said softly.

John felt very warm now, and he squirmed lightly, unsure of what to do with himself. He kept staring at the sky, but he did lower his hand and inch it closer to Sherlock's. He sighed softly when he found Sherlock's hand instead of accidentally brushing his thigh or something.

Sherlock squeezed John's hand. "It's odd, don't you think? Billions of people and here we are -- we found each other," he said.

John nodded. "When I first saw you . . . I don't know what made me came over to you. Everything I've ever done is predictable and I saw you like a personification of everything I've missed out on because of that. But it's more now . . . I know it's more than that."

Sherlock listened. "It is more," he said. "I know we're different but whatever it is, it's . . . important." He didn't even know quite what he meant by that, but it felt true.

John squeezed his hand to show that understood and agreed. It was hard to voice it out loud when they didn't properly understand it themselves.

Sherlock pushed himself up. "I brought some sweets," he said, reaching over and pulling his bag towards him. He opened a pack of Parma Violets for himself and pushed some Smarties over towards John. Then he took off his jacket. "It's getting warmer," he said. "I'm glad. I don't love the cold."

John slipped out of the leather jacket and took the sweets. "Are those the ones I stole?"

"Yeah," Sherlock said. "I kept one pack at home though . . . in case I need to blackmail you one day." He laughed and pushed on John's arm a bit.

John grinned. "I like the summer too, better than the winter. I like being outdoors."

"I bet you do, running around with your shorts and no shirt on -- looking all manly," Sherlock laughed. "Actually, I also hate it when it gets too hot. Days like today are perfect for me."

"I do not!" John laughed, even though of course he did. "I don't like being really hot either. Autumn is my favourite season."

Sherlock balled his jacket up and lay back down, using it as a pillow. "So, what should we talk about now?" he asked.

John turned into his stomach, resting on his arms as he looked at Sherlock. "When did you get your tattoos? What made you want them?"

"It's all been over the last two years," Sherlock said. "I don't know -- I just wanted . . . to try things, I guess." He turned his head and looked at John and looked up again, using his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. "It's good to try things . . . find out if you like them or not."

John nodded. "That's a good philosophy," he smiled.

"But not one you live by?" Sherlock asked, turning his head to the side to look at John.

"I -- well, it's different. I have a lot of responsibilities," he said.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned his head away again. "Sure," he said. "And no one else in the world does, right?"

"No! I just mean . . . keeping the routine is good. That way there's no trouble. We've had trouble before so it's just . . . easier." John rested his forehead on his arms so he was looking at the blanket. 

Now Sherlock rolled onto his side. "What trouble?" he asked.

John kept his face hidden in the shadow of his arms. "My sister used to be like me, but she wanted to go out more and relieve stress. She drank a lot, and then all she did was drink, and she dropped out and found herself a girlfriend and broke my mum's heart. She said hurtful things and left. She came to the school to tell them she was done and she made a big scene. So now I just keep my head down and do what I'm supposed to do."

Sherlock was quiet for a moment. "But you've also got a responsibility to yourself, don't you? To be what you want to be but to . . . I don't know, live, as well, right?" 

"Yeah, but there was just so much trouble with Harry and it worries me. I don't want to be a bother or cause more worry."

"But if you're unhappy . . . your mum will worry about that, won't she?" Sherlock said, rolling again on to his back. "I'm not trying to encourage you to do things you don't want to do, but perhaps you should have a good think about what's really motivating some of your choices."

"I'm not unhappy. I'm just not doing . . . some things."

"Things you want to do?"

"Sometimes," he said.

"Like rob a bank?" Sherlock said, looking over and smiling.

John grinned and turned his head to look at Sherlock. "Like go out with my friends on weekends," he said. "Or skip class just for a break."

"And if you were to do those things, it would upset everyone and everything in the world would be ruined forever?"

"Well, no, of course not," John said.

"So, I go back to my original question -- what motivates your choices? Why was yesterday the first day you've ever missed a class?" Sherlock asked, pushing himself up onto his elbow.

"I don't know. You helped . . . I wanted to hang out with you more that I wanted to go to class."

Sherlock smiled. "Is there something else I could help you with?" he asked.

John licked his lips lightly and shrugged. "You have already," he said.

"Good," Sherlock said. "Let me know if there's anything else you want me to help you do." He sat up and reached into the bag, getting a bottle of water. "God, it's hot," he said, taking a sip and then handing it to John.

John took a sip too, looking out at the lake. "I wish I had brought my swim trunks."

"You can go skinny dipping if you want," Sherlock laughed.

John laughed with him. "I don't think so." He looked out at the water again. "I don't mind getting my pants wet."

"Are you just looking for an excuse to strip off in public?" Sherlock asked. "Is that what you're into then?"

John bit his lip lightly. "I'm more into trying to get you to strip off." He made himself keep Sherlock's gaze.

Sherlock looked at John. He pulled his t-shirt up over his head and dropped it onto the blanket.

John shifted and looked down, following Sherlock's neck to his chest and then his tattoo. The honeycomb was on his chest with bees around it, leading over his shoulder. "Bees . . . " John said, reaching out to touch it softly. He traced the lines lightly with his fingers.

"Yeah," Sherlock said. He didn't say anything else and just let John touch him.

John shifted a bit closer and traced the lines up to his shoulder then looped his hands around Sherlock's neck. "Bees," he smiled.

"Yeah," Sherlock said again. He lifted one of his hands to grip John's arm. "There are a few more on my back as well."

"Let me see," John asked softly.

Sherlock turned himself away from John. The sun was hot on his skin, and he wondered if John was going to touch him again.

John smiled at the small scatter of bees. He touched each one, moving closer. He knew what he wanted to do. So he did. He leaned in and kissed one of the bees lightly. Then another, following each one with a kiss.

Sherlock exhaled softly at the feel of John's mouth on his skin. He let one of his hands drop to the blanket and then reached to rest it on John's leg.

John kissed a bit harder as he got to Sherlock's shoulder and neck. "Kiss me, please?" he murmured.

Sherlock turned himself and crashed into John, kissing his mouth hard and wrapping his arms around him. He pressed into him, pushing him back against the blanket. He looked into his eyes and asked, "Is this what you want?"

John nodded, leaning up and kissing Sherlock hard again. He looped his hands around Sherlock and tugged him close.

Sherlock kissed John's mouth as his hand dropped to grip John's waist. He let his weight rest on John's body as they kept kissing, and then Sherlock lifted himself up a bit and moved to John's side. He looked up into the sky again as he tried to relax a little. "I don't know what to make of you, John Watson," he said softly.

John turned and leaned his forehead on Sherlock's shoulder. "I really like you, Sherlock."

"I really like you, John," Sherlock said. "Can I ask you something?"

John nodded, moving to look up at the sky again. 

"Have you ever kissed a boy before?"

John flushed lightly. "No. Was I really bad?" He smiled softly, biting his lip. 

"No," Sherlock laughed, pushing John a little. "It's pretty much the same premise as kissing a girl. Have you ever kissed a girl before?"

"A couple times," he said. "I liked kissing you a lot more."

"Why?"

"Because I like you more."

"Just because I have tattoos and rob banks?"

"No!" John pushed his arm. "Because you're funny and handsome and you make me feel really good."

"All right," Sherlock said. "Those are as good a reason as any, I guess." He sat up again. "Did you really want to go swimming?"

John nodded. "I feel even warmer now," he admitted. "I think it'll feel good."

"All right then," Sherlock said, standing up. "Get your kit off." He leaned over and untied his boots, pulling them and his socks off. He undid his belt and slide his jeans down so he was just in his boxers. "I hope I don't get sunburned," he said.

"We don't have to swim for long," he said. He pushed off his jeans and fidgeted in his boxer briefs. They were tighter than Sherlock's, and he knew what would happen when they got wet.  
  
Sherlock walked quickly towards the water and stood on the stones at the edge. He took one step in and said, "I can't tell if it's cold -- I'm not used to being practically nude outdoors so my judgment's off."

John walked over and stepped in, shivering lightly. "It's a bit cold, probably from the sun on our skin, too. We just have to do it fast," he said.

"I don't know," Sherlock mumbled and then he pushed forward and took a shallow dive in. When he came up out of the water, he called "It's freezing!"

John grinned and dove in after him, calling out softly. He was shivering lightly as he moved closer to Sherlock. "We should get used to it soon," he said, hugging himself in the water. 

Sherlock grabbed John's waist, gripping it under the water. "I don't see that happening, John," he said, smiling. "I don't want to exaggerate, but I honestly think I'm going to freeze to death in this lake."

John pressed close to him, opening his arms to hold Sherlock too. "We can get out if you want," he said.

"I kind of like it, I guess," Sherlock said, moving his body a little closer. He put a kiss on John's wet neck.

John grinned. "Your hair's gone flat," he said, running his hand through the wet curls. 

"I'm sure it's very sexy. Luckily, I brought a hair dryer and all my styling products so I can sort it after swimming," Sherlock laughed.

John couldn't take his eyes off of Sherlock laughing. He smiled and kissed the corner of his mouth. "I'm sure you'll be okay," he said. 

"Let's move around a bit at least," Sherlock said, still holding John but pulling him as he pushed off the ground. "Aren't you cold?"

John nodded. "Yeah," he said as he moved with Sherlock. He disentangled for a moment to swim around a bit before coming back to him. "My body is getting used to it a bit."

"I guess," Sherlock said. He looked up into the sky. "The sun was so hot a little while ago, I wish it would warm me up again."

"Lie like this and you can have both," John said, lying on his back and floating near Sherlock. 

Sherlock floated on his back. "Did you think this was the kind of crazy behaviour we were going to get up to today? Lying on our backs in a lake?" he asked.

John grinned. "I don't know what I expected. I thought we'd go to a restaurant for lunch or something boring like that. I should have known better," he said. "Especially when I saw the bike."

"I thought we could get food in a bit," Sherlock said. "I know this sounds childish, but I've got to have the bike back before dark."

"That's okay, I don't mind," John said. "I don't want you to be in trouble."

"Yeah, well . . . John, I think I want to get out now," Sherlock said. "I'm sorry -- I'm just cold and it feels weird being out here, practically naked."

"Okay, sorry," he said automatically. He stood up again and shivered as the air hit his wet skin.

Sherlock moved over towards him and put his arms around John's body. "Let's kiss once in the water," he said, leaning in to give him a long, slow kiss. He was shivering, but the kiss also made him feel warm.

John's hands settled on Sherlock's chest as they kissed, his body warming pleasantly. When they pulled apart, he bit his lip. "Come on, let's dry off and get warm again."

Sherlock ran back to the blanket and pulled another one out of the bag. "Here, wrap this around yourself," he said. He took the one off the ground and wrapped it around his own body.

John got the blanket around him and moved close to Sherlock. "The sun feels a lot better now," he said.

"Your face is all pink," Sherlock said smiling. After a few moments, he stood up and squeezed some of the water out of his boxers. "It's going to feel odd with wet pants, but I'm going to have to get dressed." He grabbed his clothes and started putting them on.

"I'm going to take mine off, I think," he said. He turned, slipped them off and hurried to put his jeans on.

"Going commando?" Sherlock laughed. "That's a bit dangerous." He sat back down, this time sitting right on the grass. "Let's stay for a bit longer until we're properly warmed up and then we can go get something to eat." He closed his eyes and turned his face up towards the sun.

"It's not dangerous at all," he laughed, sitting down beside Sherlock. Then he lay back again and sighed.

They sat quietly for a little bit. It was quite nice -- Sherlock enjoyed this trip to the lake as much as he'd enjoyed the ones he usually did on his own. Well, he enjoyed it even more, if he was honest. After a little bit, he sat forward and began shifting the stuff into his backpack. "Where do you want to eat?" he asked.

"Wherever you'd like, it's my treat," he smiled, shifting to stand up. 

"All right," Sherlock said, gathering the stuff together. "But what do you like -- I'm not much of an eater -- do you like Japanese?"

"Like sushi? I've never tried it," he said. "We can today."

"You don't have to get it if you don't want, they have other things as well," Sherlock said. "But I know a good one in town." They started up the hill, back to the bike.


	8. More Food, More Kissing

When they got to the bike, Sherlock put his leather jacket on and encouraged John to do the same. Then he handed him the helmet. "Was the ride before okay?" he asked, climbing on.

John climbed on again and nodded. "It was great," he smiled. He held Sherlock's waist again, not as tightly as before.

"You can hold tighter, if you want, I don't mind," Sherlock said. He really liked John pressed up against him like this. He maneuvered the bike around and they took off down the long driveway and onto the road. He was still careful, but allowed himself to go a bit faster on the quiet, winding roads leading away from his grandmother's house. When they got closer to town, he slowed down and then parked up near the restaurant.

"Here, give me the helmet," Sherlock said, motioning for John to get off first. He unlocked the bin and put the helmet inside. "Do you want to keep the jacket on?" he asked.

John nodded. Even though it was warm and it was a bit tight, he liked wearing something of Sherlock's.

Sherlock smiled. He locked up the bin and led them into the restaurant. They took their seats and the server brought some water and the menus. "Do you think he thinks we're in a gang?" Sherlock said quietly after he'd gone. "He was looking at us a bit suspiciously, I think."

John shrugged. "I've never been mistaken for a gang member before. Maybe he thinks I'm being initiated in," he smiled.

Sherlock laughed. "I'll have to come up with some good challenges for you," he said. "Okay, first one, choose something on the menu you've never heard of and eat it. You can get normal food too but go crazy with one thing."

John looked at the menu and, after a minute of reading, he picked the Dragon roll.

Sherlock filled out the rest of their order and passed it to the server. "So, have you enjoyed yourself today? Better than staying home studying all Saturday?" he asked.

"Spending time with you is always better than studying," he smiled.

"Hmm . . ." Sherlock said suspiciously. "We'll see about that. I can occasionally be quite annoying, I think." He took a sip of water. "Can I ask something . . . what do your friends think of us being friends?"

John bit his lip and shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't talked to them about us."

Sherlock didn't quite believe that. "They won't like me, John," he said. "And if I'm honest, I probably won't like them."

John shrugged again. "I like you," he said. "And if you like me that's all I care about."

Sherlock didn't say anything else. He knew it was never quite as easy as that. The server came and set their food down. He looked over at John and said, "I'll eat the Dragon roll if you've changed your mind. And you can try anything of mine if you want."

John nodded and tried the sushi, but it was actually really good. "Want to split it?"

"No, I'm all right," Sherlock said. They both tucked in, chatting as they ate. "You've tried a lot of new things since we met," Sherlock said. "That all okay? I guess I'm worried that you're going to regret something . . . I'm sorry I keep bringing it up but . . . you know, we're just so different. . ."

"I'll let you know of anything makes me uncomfortable. That stuff I told you at the lake . . . I've never told anyone. They all guessed because of the scene she made but I trust you, so it's okay," he rambled.

"You can trust me, John," Sherlock said. "I respect people's confidences." He smiled over at him.

John smiled softly. "Thank you. And you know you can trust me too?"

"Yeah," Sherlock said. He felt like he could. "Um, are you going to tell your friends about . . . you know, the stuff you did with me that you don't do with them?"

John considered him for a moment. "Do you mean the kissing or the stealing?"

"The first one," Sherlock said, looking down. "If you want to keep it a secret, I understand."

John licked his lips and thought about the reaction his friends would have. "I will tell them, because I'm not ashamed of you. You're my boyfriend," he added tentatively.

"You sure? Listen," Sherlock said, leaning over and touching John's hand. "Please don't rush yourself if this feels too . . . big. I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I . . . I feel like I've dealt with a lot of shit so perhaps I'm a bit jaded, but you seem so . . . good. I'm only interested in you, I don't care what we call it. I just like being with you, John. If you want me to be your boyfriend, I will but if it feels too fast, I'll understand that as well. Okay?"

John flushed and looked down at his food, using the chopsticks to pick at it. "I want this, Sherlock. It's new, and I may be a boring nerd, or whatever, but I meant it when I said I'm tough, okay? I don't care what they say. I've dealt with a lot of shit as well and . . . my mum is the only one I care about not disappointing. I'm not saying we have to go to school and make out in front of everyone but I'm not going to hide, either. You make me feel good."  

"All right, John Watson," Sherlock said. "That's all all right with me." He went back to picking at his food. "I don't think we should make out at college either, but I do quite like doing it," he said quietly.

John glanced up an smiled softly. "Me too," he said. "I know you're going to think I am just saying this, but you're the best kisser I've ever kissed."

"I'm the only guy you've ever kissed, you said," Sherlock laughed. "You've got nothing to compare me with!"

"That's why I said kisser," John grinned. 

Sherlock looked at him suspiciously. "Did you do more with them -- the girls, I mean? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

John shook his head. "I mean, not really. Just making out, I guess." He took a deep breath and shook his head harder. "The only time it came really close, she had had a lot to drink so I just sort of let her fall asleep and I left." 

"Were you drinking as well?" Sherlock asked.

John shook his head. "Well, I had a couple, but I stopped early. At the time, Harry was just getting into all of that and getting really drunk . . . for a little while I was worried it was contagious or something. Like, if I did it once I wouldn't be able to stop like her."

"Do you do much drinking?" Sherlock asked.

John shook his head again. "None since the big scene," he said. 

"Because you're worried you'll end up like your sister?"

John nodded. "And I know that would just kill my mum. We're always worrying about Harry, especially her."

"Not everyone who drinks is an alcoholic," Sherlock said. "Maybe you shouldn't be so paranoid."

"What?" John asked. "I didn't mean everyone. And you can't say that . . . you don't know what it was like."

Sherlock swallowed a bite of food. "I'm sorry, you're right," he said. "I don't know what it was like. For you." He felt like he wanted to say more, but he didn't.

John went back to his food, now feeling a bit awkward. He hadn't meant to fight.

"See, I told you I could be annoying sometimes," Sherlock said.

John flushed lightly. "You're not annoying. Just -- you don't understand."

"You're right, I guess I don't," Sherlock said. "I'm sorry -- it's just . . . it doesn't matter. I don't know why I brought any of this up. I don't drink -- drinking's not important to me . . . let's forget it, okay?"

"Sometimes I can't . . . I have to think about my mum, you know -- my decisions affect her, too," John tried to explain.

"I know what you mean," Sherlock said. He did, but he also got the sense that John carried too much responsibility for others on his own shoulders. "I'm not trying to change you."

John nodded. "Have you dealt with that sort of thing before?"

"It doesn't matter . . . like you said, I don't know what it was like for you, so I shouldn't be giving you advice," Sherlock said. "Anyway, what do you think of the sushi? Do you like it?"

John looked down at his half eaten roll and nodded. "Yeah, it's different, but it's good."

Sherlock was quiet for a minute as he ate another piece. He worried he'd ruined things again. "Look, do you want to play a game? It's called Would You Rather," he suggested. "Like would you rather . . . drink this entire bottle of soy sauce or . . . tell the server you've got nothing on under your jeans? You don't have to do either, just say which one you'd rather do."

John looked up at him again and smiled. "Yeah, that sounds fun. Is that my first question?"

"Yeah, Mister No Pants, it is," Sherlock said.

John grinned and considered. "The second one," he said. "I'm not a big fan of soy sauce."

Just then the server appeared at the table to check on them. Sherlock said that everything was fine, but raised his eyebrows at John as the guy walked away. "Okay, you come up with one," Sherlock said.

John grinned as he watched the guy leave. "Um. . . would you rather kiss the waiter or give up smoking?" 

"That's not fair," Sherlock said. "Give up smoking, I guess. Would you rather get a tattoo or a piercing?"

John took a deep breath and made a silly, pained face. "Um, a tattoo," he said. "Would you rather get another tattoo of a unicorn, or remove the one you have now?" 

"Can it be a small tattoo of a unicorn, wherever I want on my body?"

John considered him and then shook his head. "On your chest," he grinned. 

"Fine, I'll take the unicorn tattoo," Sherlock said reluctantly. "Never have met me or never see me again after today?"

John's smile fell a bit.  "I . . . I would have to lose. I don't like either of those," he said. 

"Unlike you and your control issues when it comes to unicorn tattoos, I will accept that answer," Sherlock said. He looked up towards the window. "We've still go a few hours of daylight . . . do you want me to take you home or do you want to do something else?"

John looked out of the window as well. "I don't want to go home just yet. I know a place we can go."

"Is it illegal?" Sherlock asked.

John laughed. "No. Well, maybe a minor offense."

"All right, I'm in," Sherlock said. "But I do have to be back to my place by dark . . . I mean, I have to get the bike back by then. It's important, okay?"

"I know," John said. "We'll be in town, near the school. If you're worried we can go home now, it's okay."

"No, we've got time," Sherlock said. "Should we go?"

"Yeah," John said. He waved the waiter over and paid for their meal, putting the jacket on again.

"Thanks for dinner," Sherlock said, tapping John on the shoulder. When they got outside, he said, "Are we walking or riding?"

"Riding," he said. 

"All right, come on then," Sherlock said, retrieving the helmet and then getting on. "Where to?"

"The playground two streets over from college."

Sherlock waited until John's arms were around his waist, and then he took off. It wasn't long until he parked up. "We're not going to have to do sport, are we? You'll win -- I'm at a disadvantage."

"No, no. Nothing like that." John made sure the park was abandoned before crawling into the spacious tunnel. "Come on, then."

Sherlock followed John inside. "What's going on -- have you got something devious in mind?" he asked, stepping cautiously.

"No. I just thought we could sit here, just the two of us," he said. "It's a bit lame, but it's nice."

Sherlock frowned. "It's not -- just stop doing that, okay?" He sat down. "Come on," he said. "This is good."

John shifted so he was leaning on the opposite side of the tunnel, looking at Sherlock. "I really like spending time with you."

"I'm glad," Sherlock said. "I'm glad we met, John. Because you're kind of the only friend I have. I hope that's okay . . ."

John reached out and held his hand. "Aren't we more than that?" he asked softly.

"Yeah, and you're the only one I have in that regards as well," Sherlock smiled. "It's hard for me to get on with people . . . normal people, well, anyone, I guess. But for some reason, I seem to get on with you."

John smiled and traced Sherlock's palm and fingers. "Lucky me," he sighed.

Sherlock moved closer to John. "You're always saying you're lame or boring or whatever, but you're not," he said honestly. "I've got my own things, I'm not perfect, you know . . . I don't always think things through or I overthink them and can't sleep for days. I guess I'm just saying that if either of us runs into something that's a problem, we'll have to deal with it, but until then, let's just . . . I don't know, let's just be glad we have each other, okay?"

John looked up and held his gaze. "Okay Sherlock," he said. "I'm glad I have you."

Sherlock leaned in and kissed John softly. He lifted a hand to John's cheek and held it as he held the kiss.

John kissed him back gently. It was nice -- he would come here a lot after his dad left, and it was nice sharing it with Sherlock now, putting good memories around this tunnel. 

“We kiss a lot -- is that okay with you? ” Sherlock said stupidly. “It is with me – I’m just .. . I know I just said we have to stop worrying, but I do worry . . . sorry. I guess what I should say is that I like it and I hope you do as well.” He felt his face redden a bit. He realised he needed to listen to his own advice to John.

"I like it too," John said. He smiled wide. "I really like kissing you."

"Do you think one day you'll want to do . . . more than kissing?"

John bit his lip and fiddled with the hand he was still holding. "Yeah," he said, as he'd already thought of that. "But not at a playground," he added, smiling at Sherlock.

Sherlock exhaled, though he hadn't realised he'd been holding his breath. "You sure?" he said lightly. "I mean, first the city centre then you were trying to get me nude at the lake and now . . . I think you've got an exhibitionist streak." He pinched his arm softly, and then kept this hand there.

John grinned and shook his head, despite the flush in his cheeks. "I want us to be comfortable."

"Well, if you had let me rob that bank earlier this week, I could afford to buy us our own flat where we could be comfortable all the time," Sherlock said, smiling as he leaned back.

John grinned, imagining the thought of them living together one day. "Imagine how much more comfortable we'll be when the police aren't after us."

Sherlock smiled and leaned over against John. He reached over and rested his hand on John's leg.

John touched Sherlock's hand, lacing their fingers. "Do you want to get the bike back?"

"Yeah, I should," Sherlock said. "I don't want to let my mum down." He crawled out and they walked back to the bike. "Should I take you home?"  
  
John nodded. "I suppose so," he said.

"I know it's stupid, but I wish I didn't have to," Sherlock said. "Come on then," he said, climbing onto the bike, before saying "Wait -- let's kiss goodbye here." He pulled on John's arm.

"Why here?" he asked, already leaning in and kissing him softly. 

"I don't want to make your mum uncomfortable," Sherlock said, leaning in to give John a proper kiss. "But I wanted another kiss before the end of the date."

John nodded, giving Sherlock one more, a bit longer, before moving to climb onto the bike. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock again, pressing close to him. Sherlock pressed back against him a little and then took off. When he pulled up, he put his hand on John's for a second, pushing it against his stomach. Then he waited for John to climb off.

John put the helmet and jacket away, resisting the urge to kiss him again. "See you," he said, raising his hand in a wave. 

"See you," Sherlock said. He waited until he watched John enter his house and then he drove home.


	9. The Rest Of The Weekend

When Sherlock got to his house, he locked up the bike in the shed and then went into the house. "I'm back," he called.

"Did you have a good day?" his mother asked, pleased he was back in time but not wanting to call attention to it. She put the kettle on.

He moved into the kitchen. "Yeah, I did," he said. "We actually went swimming."  
  
"You're joking?" she asked, bringing a mug to him. "That doesn't seem like you at all."

"I know, but it was fun," he said. "I told you -- John is different." He took a sip of tea. It really had been a good day.

John called out for his mum when he walked in, but no one answered. When he went to the kitchen he saw a note that she had been called into work, but that she had made dinner and that it was in the oven for him. He left it for now, full from his lunch with Sherlock, and went up to his room to work on some homework. He didn't know how long he was working before he heard the door and his mum coming in. He left his work and headed down. "I thought I'd wait for you so we could have dinner together," he said. 

"Oh! You shouldn't have -- I could have been late."

"I was full when I got home so it's okay. I wouldn't have starved," he smiled, moving to serve food for both of them. 

"So did you have a nice date, then?" she asked carefully. 

John nodded, as he set the plates on the table. "Yeah, I did. He's really nice."

She looked at him for a moment. "This . . . I know that you're not like Harry. That this difference . . . wasn't the problem."

John licked his lips awkwardly and nodded. "I know, Mum."

She smiled and started on her meal, telling him about her day. Then she said she was called in for both of her jobs, so she was going to be gone all next weekend.

"No time to come home and sleep?"

"It's easier to use the on call room -- I know it's for doctors but if it's empty they let other staff use it as well. I can sleep there or go to the nursing home in and catch a few hours in one of the empty beds before my shift."

"Oh. Will you need anything?" John was trying not to get excited. He knew his mum was working hard to give him what he needed, but all he could think about at the moment was inviting Sherlock over to an empty house. 

"Oh no, I'll be fine," she smiled. 

They finished their dinner and John headed back up to his room. 

_Was everything okay when you got home? -JW_

Sherlock was lying on his bed reading when John's text arrived. _  
_

_Yeah. All's well. Everything okay at your house? SH_

_Yeah. We just had dinner and now I'm working on some homework. -JW_

John thought about what his mum had said but he didn't bring that up yet. They had all week, and he would rather ask Sherlock in person anyway. 

_I liked everything about today, John. I genuinely haven't had that much fun for a long time. Thank you. SH_

John grinned stupidly. 

_I nearly froze you to death. You must like danger. -JW_

_I do, John Watson. And I like you. SH_

_I like you too. I had a lot of fun today. -JW_

_Get all your work done so you don't have any regrets, okay? SH_

_I promise I will. I'll let you go for now. -JW_

_Text me when you get into bed. To say good night, I mean obviously. SH_

_Of course. Talk to you soon. -JW_

Sherlock rolled over on his side and looked at his book again, but he found it hard to concentrate. He decided to take a bath. The hot water and quiet of the small room relaxed his mind and body, and he realised that it was the first night in a long time that he felt genuinely good within himself.

John went back to doing his homework, focusing completely for the next hour so he could finish it. Then he got ready for bed and climbed in, taking his phone out again. 

_I'm in bed now, homework is all done. -JW_

Sherlock was also in bed, listening to the radio.

_Me too. What's your room like? SH_

_It's plain. -JW_

John looked around his room. 

_I have a desk and a bed and a small chest of drawers. -JW_

_Have you got any pictures on the walls? SH_

_I used to have posters for bands and movies but I don't anymore. -JW_

_I wonder if I'll ever see your room. SH_

John flushed lightly.

_Maybe. What's your room like? -JW  
_

_I've got a bed, a desk, and two bookshelves and in the corner I've got a little table with my lab stuff. Not very exciting really. SH_

_Lab stuff? -JW_

_Chemistry. That's what I want to study at uni. Not so exciting now, am I? SH_

Sherlock paused before hitting send. After today he felt pretty sure John liked him for who he was, but it was still easier to let his guard down a bit via text.

_You're an undercover nerd. I still like you. -JW_

_I'm glad. Don't tell your friends, though. Let them think I'm a criminal mastermind, bent on corrupting you. I've got a reputation to live up to, you know. SH_

_It's our secret. -JW_

Sherlock smiled.

_All right. Good night, John. SH_

John plugged his phone in and turned away from it to go to sleep. It took him a while, his mind playing out more scenarios with Sherlock, especially now that he was going to ask him to come over this weekend when the house would be empty. When he woke up in Sunday he cleaned up a bit, just making it tidier so that, if Sherlock said yes, he wouldn't have to do too much at the end of the week

Then, thinking logically about it instead of nervously and excited, he realised they were going to need supplies so he left and went to the store to get lube and condoms, hiding both in his bedside drawer. By the time Monday came around and he was heading to school, he had spent so much time thinking about it all, he knew exactly how he would ask. Nothing fancy, but still.

Sherlock spent the rest of the weekend reading and working. He ate dinner with his parents on Sunday -- he didn't have an agenda really, though he did appreciate his mum's understanding about the bike and what he'd found in it. He even helped her clean up afterwards. As she was washing the dishes, she asked if he had his work done for the school week.

"Of course," he said. "I've worked ahead on the stuff the tutor brought as well."  
  
"I assumed so," she said, smiling. She threw him a dish towel. "Dry those," she said, nodding towards the pots she'd just washed. He stood up and got to work. "So your friend, John . . . you said you two were opposites. Does that mean he's not a good student?"

"Well, no," Sherlock said, glancing over. He was pretty sure he knew where this conversation was going. "He's smart -- he'll be studying medicine at university." He paused for a minute. "I meant, more personal differences -- like the way we look and . . . the things we've done."

"So he's not permanently scarred his body?" she said teasingly.

"No, not tats or piercings, very clean cut -- you'd be impressed," Sherlock said.

"And are you? Impressed with his appearance, I mean?" she asked.

He rolled his eyes, which he knew was as good as a yes, which was okay, he guessed, because it was true. He put the dishes back into the cupboard. "Maybe next week or something, he could come for dinner maybe?" he said, not looking up at her.

"Maybe," she said. "And then I could judge for myself just how handsome Doctor Tattoo-Free John is, yeah?"

"Yeah," Sherlock said, laughing a little. "Trust me -- he's handsome," he added before going up to his room.


	10. A New Week

In the morning, Sherlock woke up realising he was actually quite keen to go to college. It was only because of John really. After his first class, he found John.

"Having a good morning?" he asked as they walked to class.

"It's been okay," John said. It'd actually been a bit rough seeing as he skipped his practice -- the boys were even more suspicious and annoying because it. They all had found out why and he was being ignored completely now. He didn't care. He knew it was dramatic to lose his friends for one boy, but at the end of the day, they wouldn't care if they were really his friends. Greg was worried, but he was still talking to John and acting mostly normal. That'd have to be good enough.

They separated after that class but agreed to meet for lunch. Sherlock hadn't brought any food, but it didn't matter. He just wanted to spend time with John. He thought about having a cigarette while he was waiting, but instead sat down in the grass.

John passed the table like he always did, but there were no jeers or shouts today. Just silence. Greg got up and joined him, but John paused. "I'm meeting Sherlock."

"I know. Can I . . . meet him?" Greg asked. 

John glanced at the table. "Did they send you to do something mean?"

"No! No, I just wanted to because you're my friend. I won't stay or anything." 

John considered it. "Wait here so I can tell him," he said. John turned and went around the corner. "Hello," he smiled. "Um. . . my friend wants to meet you," he said. 

Sherlock stood up awkwardly. He wasn't quite sure what to do or what this meant, and he realised he should probably just say hello and fine. So that's what he did.

John held Sherlock's hand as he waved Greg to come over. 

"Um, hi," he said, putting his hand out. "I'm Greg."

Sherlock tried to keep a normal face and said hello. He dropped John's hand and shook Greg's. He tried pay attention to everything about this boy, just in case.

"Um, I won't bother your lunch. I just wanted to meet you -- John's a good friend of mine so yeah," Greg said. "Um, see you around, then." He turned and left again. 

John looked up at Sherlock nervously. "Sorry -- thank you," he said. 

Sherlock looked at John's face. "It was fine," he said. "I don't mind. I'm just . . . glad to see you. Your last class okay?" he asked, sitting back down in the grass.

John sat down beside him and nodded. "Yeah, it was good. What about yours?"

"Boring," Sherlock said. "It feels like forever since I've seen you." He reached over and touched John's leg lightly before pulling his hand back.

"Yeah," John said. "Is it lame if I missed you after just a day?" he grinned. 

"Probably," Sherlock smiled. "Maybe we should take off the rest of the day and just go somewhere fun," he added.

"I skipped one class, but three is pushing it," he said. "Plus, I can't miss practice again."

"Fine," Sherlock said dramatically. "Do you have practice every night?"

"Yeah, every week day after school," he said. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes in complaint. "Well, maybe we could do something again at the weekend," he suggested.

"This weekend?" John asked. And then he remembered what this weekend was. "Oh, um, well, my mum is going to be working and staying over at the hospital so . . . I'll have the house to myself. If you wanted to come over, I mean." Well, that wasn't nearly as smooth as he had planned it. 

"Yeah, that should work," Sherlock said. And then he thought more specifically about what John had said about his mum and wondered if John was inviting him to spend the night. He wasn't sure and didn't want to make any assumptions, so he decided to change the subject. "What have you got for lunch then?" he asked. 

John opened his lunch bag and pulled out the roasted potatoes and beef his mum had made last night. "You can have some, if you like."

"That's okay," Sherlock said. "You're the one who's going to be running around later -- you'll need it for energy." He fiddled with a twig he picked up from the ground. "So is he like your best friend or something?" he asked.

"Who? Greg? Yeah, we've been playing together a long time and he's the most decent one out of the bunch," John said as he ate.

"Right," Sherlock said. "Do you want . . . I mean, am I supposed to make him like me or something? Because I don't think he will, John, and I don't want to ruin anything but I'm not good at things like that."

"No! You don't have to do anything. He's my friend so he will like you, that's all."

"You can't make him --" Sherlock start but then stopped. "Are you going to want us to go hang out with him stuff?" he asked instead.

"We don't have to if it makes you uncomfortable but maybe someday," he said.

Sherlock couldn't really imagine that happening, but there didn't seem to be a reason to discuss it now. "I just want you to be comfortable with me," he said. He looked up in the sky. "It's another nice day," he said, kind of randomly.

John leaned over on his shoulder. "I am comfortable with you," he smiled, still eating.

"Good," Sherlock said quietly. They sat for a little while longer talking about their classes and then walked together to one that they shared. It wasn't until after they'd sat down that Sherlock realised he'd forgotten to have a cigarette.

John took out his note book to start his notes. Sherlock paid attention to the lecture, though he occasionally leaned over and scribbled on John's notes -- sometimes info about the class, other times rude words. John drew a little soldier sword fighting Sherlock's words away as he wrote. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

At the end of the school day they walked out together. Sherlock reached over and squeezed John's arm. "Text me maybe when you get home," he said. "If you have time, I mean."

"I'll have time." John glanced around and wanted to lean in and kiss him quickly. "Could I have a kiss good bye?" he asked, unsure how Sherlock felt about it.

"Um," Sherlock said, glancing around. He leaned in and gave John a quick kiss. "I'll talk to you later, yeah?" he said, moving back a bit.

"Sorry . . . I'll talk to you later," John said quickly, turning to leave.

Sherlock turned. Then he pulled out his phone as he walked into the city centre.

_I was just worried if we started I wouldn't want to stop and you'd miss practice again. SH_

John took out his phone as he headed to the field and flushed lightly.

_I was worried I made you uncomfortable. But I suppose that's a good point. -JW_

_Don't be cross. Text me when you're home, okay? SH_

_Will do. -JW_

John put his phone into his bag and, a bit distracted, headed out to practice. It was harder getting the boys to follow his orders, but practice slowly moved along.

Sherlock walked over to see his grandmother.

"So how was your date?" she asked, a bit eagerly.

"It was good," he said.

"Then why is your face . . . the way it is?" she asked.

"I'm worried," he admitted quietly.

She sighed. "Okay, tell me what you're worried."

"Well, we're different, you know, and today he made me meet his friend who probably hates me and who I'll hate, I'm sure," he said 

"Anything else?"

"Well . . . he doesn't know about the other stuff and he probably won't be okay with it," Sherlock said.

She was quiet for a moment. "Are you okay with it?" she asked.

"Yes, you know I am," Sherlock said. "I'm okay with what I did and I'm okay that I don't anymore."

She smiled, but didn't say anything immediately. She folded up the newspaper on her lap set it on the table. "Thanks for coming round with him on Friday," she said. "You're right -- he's quite handsome."

Sherlock smiled, knowing what she was doing. "Yeah, he's good," Sherlock said.

"You have good taste," she said. "You should trust it . . . and him."

"All right," he said, still smiling. "Don't try to be clever." He grabbed the paper off the table and they finished the crossword together.

When practice was over John walked half of the way with Greg, talking about his weekend and giving him some information about the date he had. Greg was nice about it, but John was careful to keep it casual. They split off and John went home to start dinner.

_I'm home. -JW_

Sherlock was sitting in his back garden having a cup of tea when John's text arrived.

_Was running around knocking other people down fun? SH_

John grinned.

_Always. -JW_

_Have you got a lot of homework tonight? SH_

_None, actually. It was a decent day. You? -JW_

_I want to do a bit more before Thursday and the tutor. Maybe one day you could come over to mine? SH_

John smiled stupidly again, shaking his head at himself.

_I would like that. -JW_

_I'm going to go do some work now. I'll talk to you in a bit. SH_

_Okay. I have to cook anyway. Talk to you soon. -JW_

Sherlock spent the rest of the evening reading and working. He took quite a bit of notes and then even worked on an experiment. He took a bath and then went to bed earlier than usual.

Since John didn't have any homework to work on, he spent his time looking over his notes, but more specifically the little doodles that Sherlock had added to them. He was a classic case of a surprise. He looked so different, as if he would be mean and hard, but he was a softie deep down. John smirked as he imagined what Sherlock would think if John called him that. 

John lay down and thought about his life. What if he really was different from his appearance, like Sherlock insisted? Was he just being nice? Greg had been so shocked that John skipped, missed practice the way he did. He liked that, surprising Greg that way. Maybe he wasn't so boring after all, he was just slower at getting around to it. At the same time, John trusted Greg. Greg shared his long term goals. Could he both those people -- the fun John and the serious one?


	11. The Appointment

On Wednesday morning, Sherlock's mum brought him up a cup of tea. "Everything okay for this afternoon?" she asked.

"Of course," he said, sitting up in bed. "It'll be fine, I'll be fine and then only a few more times and the stupid business will all be over." He took a sip of tea.

"You do realise that you've got no one to blame but yourself?" she said.

"Of course, I do," he said. "I'm not an idiot. That doesn't mean I can't pout about it." He made a little smile. It was all embarrassing.

"Who do you want to take you -- me, Dad or Mycroft?"

"I wish I could go on my own," Sherlock said.

"I'm sure you do," she said. "But you can't. So choose."

"You, I guess," he said. "Don't pick me up at college, though. I'll meet you outside the office . . . please."

"All right," she said. "Now get up and stop being lazy."

He took a quick shower and ate something before heading off.

"One o'clock," his mother called as he left.

"I know," he said, letting the door slam behind him.

When John's alarm went off in the morning, he was disappointed that there had been no more messages from Sherlock. He got ready quickly, packed his lunch, and headed off.

Instead of going straight to college, Sherlock walked a bit out of the way, hoping to catch John as he came in. When he turned a corner, he saw him a bit up the road. "John," he called, not quite running to catch up with him.

John looked up and smiled when he saw Sherlock. "Hello," he said.

"Did you have a good night last night?" Sherlock asked. He touched John's arm lightly -- nothing much, but something he wouldn't do to anyone else.

"Yeah," he smiled. "You?"

"Yeah, pretty good," Sherlock said. "You look, um, particularly handsome today if you don't mind me saying," he added, smiling a bit cheekily.

John punched his arm lightly. "No homework so I'm not stressed," he grinned.

"Don't get stressed, John," Sherlock said. "About anything, I mean."

"I know," he said. "You had a good night? I lost you," he teased. 

"What do you mean?"

"You said we'd talk later but then we didn't," John said. "I attempted to send you a 'good night' but I feel asleep in the process," he smiled. 

"Did I?" Sherlock asked. "I guess I just meant 'talk to you later' in life. Like now, we're talking now which is later than then. See?"

John lightly punched his arm again. "Okay, Mr Technical," he teased. 

"Am I making you stressed?" Sherlock asked a little more seriously.

"No," John said honestly. 

"Good," Sherlock said. "Are you still thinking that maybe this weekend you might want to do a bit more kissing?"

John nodded, looking ahead of him now as they walked towards the school. "And maybe . . . that stuff you were saying about more than kissing," he said quietly. 

Sherlock smiled. "Hmm . . . maybe. But don't get me thinking about it now, you pervert."

"You're the pervert," he said, trying not to sound as shy as he felt. 

"Well, maybe," Sherlock said. "Come on, stop talking about though or I'll never be able to focus in class."

"Okay, okay," he said. "We have to go in now anyway. See you at lunch?"

"Of course," Sherlock said. He touched his arm again before heading off to class.

John went to his first class and, despite Sherlock's warning, he couldn't stop thinking about the upcoming weekend. Instead of taking notes he doodled in the margins. 

Sherlock sat in the back of his class staring up at the professor. However, he wasn't thinking about chemistry, he was thinking about John. He hadn't expected to meet anyone he liked at this school, certainly not someone he liked in this way. He hoped it would all be okay -- so far it seemed that way. He didn't like feeling anxious, though, and wondered if he'd ever be able to turn that feeling off or if he'd always have to run to his grandmother to talk it out. Suddenly the class was over and he moved to the next one, but this time he spent the time focusing on the fact that soon it'd be lunch and he could be around John.

When it was time for lunch John hurried to the spot they always sat at, taking out lunch for himself and a little extra for Sherlock. He didn't seem to eat very much and John was a bit worried about him. 

Sherlock came out to find John, smiling the minute he saw his face. He sat down next to him, a little close so they could accidentally touch. "Hey," he said. "It's warm out again."  
  
"Yeah," John smiled. "I brought some extra for you, if you want."

"Thanks," Sherlock said. He took a bite even though he didn't really feel like eating. "So this weekend -- did you want to come to mine?"  
  
John nodded. "I thought . . . aren't we doing the sleepover?" he asked. 

"What? Where? Art your house?" Sherlock rambled. He quickly thought back to the conversation and realised what was happening. "Yeah, okay, sorry, I wasn't sure I understood. Yes, that'll be good."

John sighed softly in relief. "Okay. I can come to yours on Sunday or something," he said. 

"Yeah, that should work," Sherlock said. When John stood up, Sherlock glanced at his watch. "Look, I'm going to have a cigarette." He reached over and squeezed John's arm. "I'll talk to you later, yeah?"

"Okay," John said. "I can wait for you if you want," he offered. 

"No, go ahead," Sherlock said. "I'll talk to you later," he repeated.

John nodded. "Okay. See you," he said. He turned and headed inside. 

Sherlock smoked his cigarette, taking long breaths in and out. He looked at his watch again. It was time to go. He'd be so glad when this was all over. He took off, walking over a few streets to meet his mother outside the office.

"You okay?" she asked, fussing his hair a bit. "Were you just smoking? You stink of cigarettes."

"It's not illegal to smoke cigarettes," Sherlock said.

"I know. Just . . ." his mother started. "Come on, let's get in there." She put her arm around his shoulder and they walked through the doors, signed in, and sat down to wait.

When his name was called, they both went back to the office. The social worker smiled at them. He wondered if she thought this all was as stupid as he did. She asked his mother a few questions and then asked Sherlock some. They both answered truthfully. Then the social worker sent Sherlock out to give a urine sample. His mother stayed in the room.

When he was finished, he went back to the woman's office, but his mother was no longer there. The social worker told Sherlock to sit down.

"Will it test clean?" she asked him.

"Yes," he said.

"Not worried at all?" she asked.

"Of course not," he said. "I told you -- I told everyone -- I'm no longer interested in any of that."

She looked down at her notes. "Your mum says you've started at a new college. You staying on top of your work -- will you still be able to take your exams with everyone else?"

"Yes, obviously," Sherlock said. He knew he needed to watch his tone of voice -- doing so would mean this would end more quickly. "I'm getting additional tutoring as well so I'm on track."

"And friends? Are you in contact with any of the others who were involved?" she asked, jotting something down on the paper.

"I am not," he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and setting it on her desk. "You can check if you'd like. All of that is over and I am doing everything I am supposed to be doing and nothing I'm not."

She glanced at his phone and then said, "That won't be necessary. We'll ring your mum with the results. Otherwise, I'll see you next month." She closed his file and put it in a tray on her desk.

He stood up and walked out to find his mum in the lobby. They got in the car. Sherlock didn't really want to go back to college so she let him take the afternoon off and they headed home.

"I was thinking I might have a sleepover at John's this weekend," he said.

"A sleepover?" she asked, smiling.

"You know what I mean," he said awkwardly. "I guess I'm just saying I might be out all night. All right?"

"Let's wait and see when we get the phone call," she said quietly. "When am I going to meet this John anyway?"

"He could come for dinner Sunday maybe," he said.

"Let's run it by your father, but I think that'd be good," she said.

Sherlock stared out the window for the rest of the ride home.

When John went to his next class, he was surprised that Sherlock wasn't there. Was he skipping again? Why wouldn't he have told John about it? He tried to focus on his notes but gave up quickly. Had something happened to Sherlock? John didn't understand. When his class was out he pulled out his phone and texted Sherlock. 

_Where are you? -JW_

John went to his last class and didn't even bother taking out his notebook. His brain wouldn't stop running through wild ideas. What if he went to get his bike? Had he been hurt?

_Are you okay? -JW_

There was still no answer. At the end of the day John walked home, his phone tight in his hand as he went. Maybe it was the fact that John asked him to stay the night? He was clearly surprised -- he must not have understood or maybe he didn't really want to.

_I'm sorry I tried to rush things. Please don't be angry. Just let me know you're okay. -JW_

Sherlock had gone to bed for a nap when he got home. He didn't always sleep well during the night, so it felt good to nap. It was kind of like a treat, like when he was a little kid who got to leave school early. He reached for his phone and saw all the messages from John. 

_Sorry. I had an appointment. I'm fine. Don't worry. SH_

John startled at the vibration, looking quickly at the message. Was that all?

_You had an appointment? -JW_

_Yeah and then I couldn't be bothered coming back to college. Practice okay? SH_

_I skipped it -- I thought you were hurt or something. Why didn't you tell me you were leaving? -JW_

Sherlock's forehead wrinkled. Why was John overreacting?

_Because I didn't think it was going to be such a big deal. You didn't have to skip practice. SH_

John's brow furrowed. He didn't think it was a big deal? He disappeared! Well, John could do that too. He dropped his phone on the bed and left it there, going down to start dinner. 

Sherlock lay there a few more minutes waiting for John to respond. But he didn't. So he sent another.

_Was class all right? SH_

He climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom, but when he came back, there was still no response from John. He slipped his phone into his pocket and went down to get a cup of tea.

When John finished dinner, he went up to his room again and saw Sherlock's messages. 

_Fine. -JW_

Sherlock was back upstairs reading when John's text came through. This wasn't good. He didn't really understand -- why was it such a big deal?

_Please don't be angry with me. I don't understand why you're so upset. SH_

_I left you outside and you never came back. I was worried. And you weren't answering. It scared me. -JW_

Sherlock thought about John's sister. Yes, that made sense. He should've thought about this earlier.

_I'm sorry, John. I mean it. SH_

_You could have told me you had an appointment. Are you okay? -JW_

Sherlock thought about why he hadn't mentioned it. He just didn't want to get all bogged down in the whole thing, explaining why he had to go which would mean he'd have to explain what had happened, and he wasn't sure John would understand or like any of it. It was embarrassing that he had to deal with this still -- he'd hoped that could have just been something he'd done and no longer did, but because of getting caught, it all became so much more. He wasn't that person anymore, but he wasn't ashamed that he had been.

_I'm fine. It's just something I have to go to with my mum._

He stared at it. It wasn't a lie, but he had a feeling it wouldn't be an acceptable answer for John, so he deleted it and started again.

_I'm fine. I have to go see a social worker because your friend was right, I did get in trouble. Not for murder though. It's not a big deal. SH_

John stared at the message for a moment. He wished they weren't talking about this over texts.  

_What kind of trouble? -JW_

_Are you sure you want to know? It's over now, John. I won't lie. I will tell you if you want. But are you sure you want to know? SH_

John sat up a bit more now, getting worried. 

_Yes. Please tell me what happened. -JW_

Sherlock took a deep breath.

_I got caught with drugs. SH_

_Holding them for someone? Or doing them? -JW_

_Buying them. SH_

He hesitated for a moment and then sent another.

_To do them. SH_

John swallowed hard. 

_And it's done now? You don't do them anymore? -JW_

_No. Not anymore. I want you to believe me, but if you don't, I can show you my test results. SH_

_I believe you, Sherlock. -JW_

John stared down at the words before he hit send. Did he believe him? Harry always said she had quit, but then she was drunk again. John wanted to believe Sherlock. He sent the text.

_I'm sorry. SH_

_It's okay. I don't want you to feel like you can't tell me stuff. -JW_

Sherlock knew that John really meant that, but he also knew that there were things that John probably wouldn't want to hear, things that would be too hard for him to deal with. He wasn't quite sure what to say.

_Okay. I think I'm going to read for a bit. I'll talk to you later. SH_

_Don't shut me out, okay? Look, I'm not going to lie, it's troublesome, but your past is that. If you say you're done, I believe you. -JW_

_We're just so different. This is a big difference. I don't want our difference to ruin anything for you. SH_

_It was a big difference. Now it's not. I like you a lot, Sherlock. Please. -JW_

Sherlock sighed. He knew that John's experiences with his sister and his relatively sheltered life were influencing his comments. But he also knew that he liked John too, he didn't want them to stop being friends.

_I like you a lot too, John. SH_

_If you really want to go read, I won't keep you. Thank you for telling me. -JW_

_I think I will. I'm sorry again. SH_

Sherlock turned off his phone and lay on his bed. He felt a little like crying, but he wasn't exactly sure why.

John lay down and thought about the things he had said about Harry, and about Sherlock not understanding. He had assumed it was because Sherlock had never encountered someone like that, but it turns out he _was_ someone like that. But if he was better now, they'd be okay. At least John hoped they would.

Sherlock went downstairs for a cup of tea. He ate an apple and a piece of bread and then told him mum he was going to have an early night. He went back up, drawing himself a hot bath. He soaked in it for a while, trying not to think of anything at all. This didn't really work. He found himself going over every conversation he'd had with John and trying to read in between the lines, finding something that would prove that deep down this difference would be too big. Why was he doing that? He didn't want it to end with John -- there had been something that pulled him towards John that first day, that must mean something. But he didn't want John to get hurt and in truth he didn't want to get hurt either.

John tried to busy himself with reading but he worried about Sherlock -- not exactly for Sherlock but for the two of them. What if Sherlock decided that John couldn't handle this news and broke it off? What if Sherlock had other things in his past that were even worse? Thinking about the possibilities was stressing John out. No more messages came through. John was starting to realise that 'talk to you later' was just a line.

Sherlock got into bed earlier than usual, which was a bit stupid really -- because of his nap, he was even less sleepy than he normally was at this time. He tried reading for a bit and listening to the radio and then he just turned out the light and tried to will himself to sleep. But nothing worked. He reached around and found his phone. He turned it on but he hadn't received any texts. He wondered what John had been doing. What he'd been thinking. He read back over their earlier conversation before hitting reply.

_I hope I'm not waking you but I wish I could see you. SH_

John had just fallen asleep when his phone vibrated. He squinted at the brightness of the screen.

_I wish I could see you too. -JW_

John's response made Sherlock feel a bit more relaxed. He set his phone on the bedside table and eventually fell asleep.

John waited a bit for a response, dozing in and out before finally letting sleep take him.


	12. Sharing The Truth

In the morning John had a hard time getting up, but he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower. He thought about the weekend, which was so close now, and the fact that he wasn't going to see Sherlock at all until then. If he still came over. His mind wandered to their conversation, and he hoped that Sherlock knew John was genuine with his words. If his drug use really was done, it didn't matter.

At Sherlock's house, his mother came in to wake him before she left for work. "Don't forget the tutor's coming today," she said, standing at his door.

Of course he hadn't forgotten. He eventually got dressed and was ready for her arrival. He spent a lot of the morning thinking about John though, wondering how different things between them would be when they saw each other again.

At college, John caught up with Greg on his way in.

"You missed practice again."

John nodded. "I was worried about Sherlock."

"Just because he didn't come to class?"

"That's the thing. He said he'd see me in class so I was worried."

Greg only nodded slowly.

"Look, I know you don't get it, but I like him a lot," John said.

Greg sighed. "Okay, sorry. Was he okay?"

"Yeah . . . something just came up at home." John left it at that. He liked Greg, but if one word got out about the drugs he knew it would be a hard time for Sherlock and a hard time for John as well. They went to class and Greg dropped the subject, talking instead about how much homework he had let pile up.

Once the tutor left, Sherlock went back to his bedroom to start working on her assignments. He quite enjoyed working with her really -- he hadn't been sure when his mother had suggested the idea, but now he was glad she had. He waited until around six and finally sent John a text.

_I hope you had a good day. SH_

Back at home John made dinner, enough for his mum to take some with her for the weekend. Then he worked on his homework, getting it all done so that would be out of the way as well. He cleaned his room and then allowed himself to look at his phone.

_It was okay. How was yours? -JW_

Sherlock looked at the message. It seemed kind of terse, but maybe he was just being paranoid. He wondered about this weekend, about going to John's or John coming to his. But he didn't want to bring it up. _  
_

_Okay. I worked with the tutor. SH_

_How was that? -JW_

_She's good. I enjoyed it. Was practice all right? Is your friend angry at you? SH_

_No, he's not. Practice was fine. The usual. -JW_

Sherlock stared at the texts. They seemed awkward. He didn't want them to.

_My mum's calling me. I'll talk to you later, okay? SH_

John blinked at the message, unable to trust if he would actually be back or not. He lay down and closed his eyes, holding his phone loosely in his hand. He imagined Sherlock younger, wondered what would make him want to try drugs. He wondered what kind he'd done and what had happened for him to get caught. He couldn't help being curious.

Sherlock went downstairs and made himself a cup of tea and then went out to the back garden, hiding behind the shed. He rang his grandmother's number.

"Sherlock? What's going on?" she asked when she picked up.

"I told John about things and now everything's different and I don't want it to be," he blurted out.

"What things did you tell him?"

"About the drugs," he said quietly.

"Well," she said, keeping her voice calm. "If he can't accept you, then maybe he's not the right friend for you. You know that I wish you hadn't done all that -- it was wrong but worse yet it was stupid -- but I understand why. . . I understand your curiosity and I respect what it took for you to overcome all that. If John can't . . . "  
  
"It's not that," Sherlock interrupted.

"What do you mean?"  
  
"I didn't explain any of that . . . I just . . . I hadn't told him if I wasn't going to be in class and he got all worried and then I had to tell him about the appointment with the social worker and he says everything's fine but it doesn't seem like it is."

She sighed. "Was all of this by text, Sherlock?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Stop being stupid -- I told you, you can't tell things by text. You need to see him or talk to him."

"I can't," Sherlock said.

"You can," she said softly. "I know it scares you but you can."

Sherlock took a deep breath. It did frighten him -- he couldn't imagine saying words about all of that, about his feelings, aloud to John. He could barely do it with anyone but his grandmother. "But I won't see him -- he's got college tomorrow but I don't and we were supposed to do something this weekend and I don't know if he still wants to. Even if he says he does, maybe before then he'll come to his senses and change his mind," he said. These things were partly excuses but they were also true.

"Ring him," she said.

"I can't," he said again.

"All right, look," she said. "I know part of the problem with you is control, I know you don't like having time to think. What about an email? They can be as long as you need them to be, you can take your time."

"I don't know," Sherlock said quietly.

"You do know," she said. "You do know you like John Watson, you do know you have to be true to yourself, and you do know you want to see him this weekend. Do it, Sherlock."  
  
He closed his eyes for a moment to think. When he opened them again, he said, "Thank you."

"I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"  
  
"Yeah," he said. "Thanks," he repeated. He slipped his phone into his pocket and took out a cigarette. He lit it and smoked it slowly, leaning up against the back of the shed. When it was finished, he got out his phone and rang John's number.

When John's phone vibrated he reacted slowly, thinking it was a message. But then it kept going and he sat up quickly.

"Sherlock?"

"I feel like I want to tell you something but I'm not very good at talking about some things so could you send me your email?"

"My email? Yeah, I can text it to you. I -- you could tell me now, if you want," John offered.

"I can't," Sherlock said. "I'm sorry. Give me a little time and then go check your email, okay?"

"Okay," John said. He hung up and sent his email address through.

Sherlock went back inside and up to his room. He sat down at his desk, opened his laptop, and started to write. It took longer than he'd meant it to take, but he read it over a few times and then sent it. He didn't know how John would respond but at least Sherlock would know he'd told the truth about what had happened and about himself.

 _John,_  
_I suppose there are things I should have told you by now. Maybe I didn't because I was just enjoying being with you or maybe I didn't because I was afraid those things would make you not like me anymore. As you know when we very first met, I didn't think we could be friends because we were so different. Maybe I thought if I could control what you knew, I could control how our differences affected us. I don't know what I was thinking, to be honest._  
_My brother and I are very smart. We were raised by parents who told us we could be whatever we wanted, and they had the financial means to allow us to try whatever we wanted. I have always been interested in science and when I was eight, I decided I wanted to be a beekeeper. My parents bought me everything I needed to try. I tried and I liked it so I kept doing it. When I was fourteen, a girl kissed me. I tried that but I didn't like it, so I never did it again._  
_That's how I live my life, John. I try things. And if I like them, I keep doing them. And if I don't, I stop._  
_I wanted to try drugs and I liked doing them. I'm not ashamed of that. I'm a bit embarrassed about how I got caught, but I'm not ashamed of having done them. However, I've also decided I don't want to do them anymore. I want to do other things now. I want to try other things. Some of those things might be things you'd like, but I can't guarantee that._  
_I'm not like you, I'm afraid. I'm not very good at thinking about how my actions affect other people. I have been trying more with my parents, because of what happened last year, but it doesn't come easily to me, like it does to you. I didn't want you to worry on Wednesday, it never even crossed my mind that you would miss practice. I'm sorry I let you down._  
_I don't want us to stop being friends or boyfriends or whatever you want to call it. But I can't totally change who or how I am. I can try to be better at thinking about other people, about thinking of you. I can try, John, and I will if you let me._  
_I'm telling you these things because I trust you. I know we've not known each other long, I know we're so different. But I also trust myself and whatever made me come sit by you that first day means something. I trust you, John, and if you'll let me, I'd like to show you that you can trust me._  
_I also respect you so if it doesn't seem worth the risk, I'll understand._  
_SH_

John sat at the computer refreshing his email over and over, waiting for the message. When it finally came, he read it slowly and carefully. Then he pulled out his phone.

_Can I call you again? -JW_

Sherlock had gone down to make another cup of tea and was sitting on his bed, waiting. He picked up his phone and rang John's number.

"So . . . I'm not really good with this sort of thing either, but I wanted you to know that I appreciate you explaining this to me. I want you to know it's okay -- I'm not upset and I don't want to stop being with you," John said, all in a rush.

"Okay," Sherlock said. "I'm glad."

"Do you feel better, having told me all of that?" he asked.

"Yeah," Sherlock said. "I'm sorry I didn't explain things sooner."

"It's okay. You didn't know me that well," he said.

"But still . . . after last weekend, I should have said something," Sherlock said.

John nodded, glancing at the laptop on his desk. "I can share something with you, if you want."

"You don't have to," Sherlock said. "But please, I meant what I said -- I keep confidences. You can trust me."

"I could send you something I've been working on . . . writing, I mean," he said.   
  
Sherlock smiled. "If you want to, that'd make me feel nice," he said.

John went to his computer again and opened up a file with things he had been working on, picking his most recent entry. It was nothing special, just a short story he had written, embellishing a bit the day he met Sherlock. "Um . . . you're in this one -- sorry," he said as he attached it and sent it. He went back to his bed and hid his face in the pillow. 

"All right," Sherlock said. "Let me go read it." He ended the call and then opened his email.

_Today, when I went to school, we had a new student. He transferred from another school. This is the sort of thing I have to write about -- a new student. Because, in reality, nothing really happens to me. He was sitting in my seat when I went to class. He didn't know that was my seat but I forgave him because he was new. He was gorgeous -- I know he's a boy too but that's what I noticed first. When I finally got to my seat, I couldn't stop looking at him -- I didn't even take notes! Well, I might have a little bit but nothing helpful. And when we went out for lunch, I saw him go behind the school all by himself. No one should have to eat lunch alone. So I followed him. Only because of the lunch thing, okay? Anyway, he was smoking, right there at the school. And when I said hello, do you know what he said? He said we were too different, and he left! That was it. My first encounter with him, probably my last encounter with him. Well, I thought so, until he showed up in another class of mine. He sat beside me, and I thought he was going to give me trouble for bothering him, but he gave me a handful of sweets. Random, I know. He said he stole them! He looks like the type that might have, only that's rude so pretend I didn't make that judgment. We are different. He's got these tight jeans and piercings and I think I saw a tattoo. I don't know what I thought I was going to do with my brown bag lunch and boring jumper. Anyway, that was my day. My adventure._

Sherlock read it over three times. It was so lovely really. He thought back to that day and remembered thinking about John that night as well.  
  
"You're lovely, John Watson," he said.

John only groaned into the phone. "Sorry," he said. 

"Are we still going to see each other this weekend?" Sherlock asked.

John turned over so he was on his back. Sharing that was okay. If he was going to start a blog one day people were going to read these things, including Sherlock. "Yes, I would like to," he said. 

"A sleepover?" Sherlock asked tentatively.

"Yes," John said, his voice small but sure. 

"All right, good, I'd like that," Sherlock said. "But no pressure . . . you know for . . . you know, okay?"

John flushed lightly. "I know. We're just hanging out and . . . and whatever happens. Nothing has to, but you know."

Sherlock let out a small sigh of relief. "Let's be okay now," he said. "I'm so sorry about all that, but let's be okay now, yeah?"

"Yeah," John nodded. "Let's be normal. Do you want to go back to texting?"

"Actually, I'm going to go have a bath, I think," Sherlock said. "I'll talk to you later -- for real, I mean, I'll text you when I get into bed, okay?"

"Okay," John said. "I'll talk to you later."

Sherlock hung up and went to the bathroom to run a bath. He felt better about things. Everything he'd written to John was true -- including the part of trying harder. He wasn't very good at those kinds of things, but he wanted to try. He wanted to try something new and he would. Because that's what Sherlock did.

John went to the kitchen to get a snack and put the food way, washing up the dishes before heading back up to his room. He went to his computer and started a new entry, typing up what happened today, leaving out major details from Sherlock's backstory. That wasn't his story to tell the world. Then he got ready for bed and took out his book to read until Sherlock texted again. 

After his bath, Sherlock said good night to his parents and climbed into bed. He set a book out but instead of reading it, he turned out the lamp and got his phone.

_I'm in bed now. SH_

_Me too. I was just reading. -JW_

John regretted adding that last bit -- it seemed like he was trying to cover up doing something else. 

_What are you reading? SH_

_Deception Point. It's a scientific thriller. -JW_

_Sounds scientific and thrilling. I wonder if we'll be okay sleeping in the same bed. Do you hog all the covers? SH_

Sherlock sent the message, smiling a bit to himself. He knew what his grandmother meant about texting, but sometimes it was easier to have certain conversations this way.

John bit his lip and smiled shyly.

_I don't hog the covers. But I am always hugging a pillow when I wake up so I think I'm clingy. -JW_

_Hmmm, I don't know about that. I may have to sleep on the floor. Or make you sleep there. SH_

_How rude! I like cuddling. -JW_

_Cuddling isn't the same as clinging. Do you talk in your sleep? SH_

_I have no idea. Do you? -JW_

_Yeah. I confess all my secrets in my sleep. Be prepared. SH_

_How exciting. :) - JW_

_Which night am I coming over? SH_

_Saturday_ _. That's the night my mum is staying over at work. -JW_

_Should I bring anything? I can treat for take away if you'd like. SH_

_Yes please! I haven't had Chinese in ages. -JW_

_All right, John Watson. I'm going to go now. You be a good boy at school and practice tomorrow and text me when you get home, okay? SH  
_

_Don't you know I'm a bad boy now? I've robbed the news agents -- I'm a hardened criminal! I'll text you tomorrow. Good night. - JW_

_Good night, John. SH_

Sherlock set his phone on the bedside table and rolled onto his side. He thought about all the time he'd spent with John, all their conversations. He really hoped they would be okay, despite their differences. He liked being with John, liked kissing him, and was pretty sure he'd like doing more with him as well. And perhaps that would happen on Saturday night. He closed his eyes and thought about that, but realised he wasn't actually picturing the sex, but the cuddling as they went to sleep together.

John put his phone down and looked around the room. It wouldn't be long before he would have Sherlock in here. He would possibly be taking off Sherlock's clothes. He remembered the tattoo and wondered if there was another one somewhere he hadn't seen. The thought made him smile softly. How surprised would Sherlock be if John had a tattoo? He opened his eyes again and looked round the room, pausing on his reflection. He had been thinking about it, just flits of thought before Sherlock, certainly more after Sherlock. He bit his lip and stood up. He needed to hurry before he changed his mind. 

Sherlock dozed a little, but when he opened his eyes again, he decided to read John's story again. He climbed out of bed and brought his laptop over to the bed and looked it over. It was sweet. How did Sherlock get involved with someone so sweet -- why would someone so sweet like him? But John did like him, Sherlock knew he did and he was glad. He had received a new email from the tutor, which included a link to a uni course she'd suggested so he read about that for a while.

John knew this was a crazy idea. A small part of his brain was trying to talk him out of it even as he walked into the tattoo shop. Of course, he knew there was a good chance that they weren't going to be together forever, and it's not like he was going to get Sherlock's name blazened across his chest. It was going to be small and simple. It was probably going to seem incredibly cheesy. But it was going to happen. And if they ever broke up or stopped being friends, then it would still serve as a reminder for John to think about himself and, once in a while, do what he wanted to do. Two hours later he left the shop, a square bandage on his chest over his heart. It was done -- painful and longer than he had expected, but it was finished. He headed back home and went up to bed, setting the alarm a bit earlier so he could tend to it before school.

Sherlock opened his eyes. His laptop screen blazed in the dark room, seeming much brighter than it'd ever been. He looked at the clock. It was four in the morning. He closed the laptop and then closed his eyes. It'd been such a long day, and despite the fact that he wished he could see John, he was actually quite glad he didn't have to go into college tomorrow.

John woke up with his alarm and went into the bathroom, cleaning off his new tattoo and applying a couple fresh bandages to protect it a bit. Practice was going to be brutal today, but he would take it because he didn't want anyone to know about this. Greg was a good friend but he would not like this at all, he wouldn't like what it implied or how impulsively John had made the choice. But at the end of the day it was for himself, though it was also something he would share with Sherlock. He packed his things and headed to college.

When Sherlock rolled over, it was morning again. He could hear birds singing, and it seemed like the sun was quite bright behind the curtain. He stayed in a bed a bit before he had to get up to use the toilet. Then he went down and made a cup of tea, taking it outside to the garden.

In class, John took his notes and tried not to keep itching his tattoo. He had been warned that was part of the healing process but he had hoped it wouldn't be so bad. He didn't want to be scratching all night when Sherlock came over tomorrow. Practice was the same as it usually was these days -- John was basically ignored though when they tackled him, it seemed extra hard. He waved off Greg's concerns about his shoulder, which confused John until he realised that, by hovering over the tattoo, it would look like he was babying his shoulder. He headed home and made dinner before allowing himself to take out his phone and text Sherlock. 

_I'm home. Hope you had a good day. -JW_

Sherlock was walking home when he received John's text. He had gone into town to sort his grandmother's bets and had explained what had happened last night. He didn't talk to her about the details of the sleepover obviously -- though he knew she was smart enough to know what it meant -- but he thanked her again for helping him. Like she always did.

_I slept late and just left my grandmother's. Your day okay? SH_

_Yeah, the usual. I don't have homework again so it's a free night. -JW_

_Maybe you could do some writing. I'm going to try a new experiment I read about. I'll text you when I get into bed, okay? SH_

_Okay. -JW_

John did decide to write. He wrote about the tattoo he got and the reason for it, finishing off with his nerves about Sherlock seeing it. What if he thought it was stupid? Or that John was trying too hard? Nothing could be done now. He saved the file and went to clean the tattoo again.

Sherlock enjoyed the experiment -- he wasn't quite sure what the results meant, but he would eventually and the process was really what mattered. He wrote up a little report and sent it to his tutor -- partly to show off but partly because he wanted to share it with someone who would understand. It was quite late when he got into bed, but he still sent a text to John. Because he'd said he would.

_I know it's late but I just got into bed. You awake? SH_

John had been reading, now getting into the habit of not trusting that Sherlock would get back to him when he said he would. He was dozing into the pages of his book when the phone vibrated on his belly. He smiled when he saw it was Sherlock.

_Barely. How was your experiment? -JW_

_I can explain it tomorrow. You should go to sleep. But first tell me what time to come over tomorrow. SH_

_Anytime you like. My mum will be gone really early, and I've already tidied up. -JW_

_Let's say two but I'll talk to you in the morning, all right? Good night, John. When I say it tomorrow, I'll be with you. SH_

John smiled in his sleepy stupor.

_Good night, Sherlock. -JW_

Sherlock set his alarm, just in case, and then put the phone on the nightstand. He turned on the radio to listen to, a little worried he wouldn't be able to fall asleep. But he did quite easily.


	13. At John's House

When John woke up he went to take a shower, cleaning his tattoo again and leaving the bandage off. He moved around the whole house while he waited.

In the morning, Sherlock got up and showered, and then put together a bag with some things to take. He left that in his room and went down to speak to his mother, who was making soup.

"I was going to go to John's today," he said tentatively. "And stay the night. That still okay?"

"Of course," she said. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Well, you know . . . you said we had to wait to get the test results . . ."

"Right," she said. "They called yesterday. They're fine."

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked.

"Did I need to? Did you have any doubts about the results?"

"No," he said. "I knew what they'd say. Did you have doubts?"

She looked over at him. "No," she said softly. "I asked my son if he was clean and he said he was. That's enough for me." She stopped stirring the soup and looked over at him. "You know, the tests weren't our idea -- I won't lie that at the start, your dad and I were . . . afraid, I guess, so they were a kind of reassurance. But we've seen you, we know you. The tests are just a technicality now." She went back to her cooking. "Everything going okay with your friend?"

"Yeah, I think so," Sherlock said.

"And when will we be meeting him?"

"I was going to invite him for dinner tomorrow remember?" Sherlock said quietly.

"Yeah, that'll be nice," she said, looking over and smiling. "I hope he likes chicken soup," she added with a wink.

He smiled back and slid a piece of paper onto the table. "Here's his name and address. Obviously I'll have my phone . . . if you need me, you'll be able to reach me. What time's dinner tomorrow?"

"We're flexible -- early evening maybe?"

"I'll ask John and text you," he said. "So . . . I'm going to go now, okay?"

"Okay, Sherlock," she said. "Have fun."

He went up and grabbed his bag and sent John a quick text.

_Everything still okay for me to come over now? SH_

John kept pacing in the sitting room when his phone vibrated. He sighed in exasperation. He needed Sherlock to get here and stop his nerves. 

_Yes, of course. Please hurry. -JW_

Sherlock smiled at John's eagerness.

_On my way. SH_

He quickly grabbed the bus and got off at a stop near John's. It wasn't long until he was knocking on the front door.

John jumped and then flushed at his reaction. He hurried to answer the door. "Hi," he said, stepping aside to let him in.

"Oh my god, John," Sherlock said, smiling as he stepped in. "You look nervous -- lovely but nervous. Relax, okay?" He dropped his bag and reached over and touched John's arm.

"I'm not nervous now," John said, even though he was. "It was just the waiting, that's all. I can take your stuff," he offered. 

"All right," Sherlock said. "Um, are you nervous because of what happened Wednesday or because of the truth or what? I want to make it right."

"I -- no," John said, his face flushing lightly. "The part that makes me nervous -- made me, I mean --" he attempted to correct quickly. "-- is what will happen . . . . you know, later. I mean what might happen. Maybe."

"Okay," Sherlock said. "Here, come here," he pulled John towards him. "Let's do a kiss and maybe that will help you relax." He put his arms around John's waist.

"Okay," John said, glancing up. He felt a bit awkward at the fact that it seemed forced, but he really liked being close to Sherlock. He leaned up and kissed his mouth softly. 

Sherlock pressed their bodies toward each other and lengthened the kiss, opening his mouth a little and flicking his tongue to John's. Then he stopped and stepped back. "There. Feel okay?" he said. He did. He felt like he wanted to go straight to John's room and continue kissing, but he kept that part to himself. 

"Yeah," John murmured. He smiled up at him. "Are you hungry? Or thirsty? I'll make tea."

"Tea, please," Sherlock said. "And then you can show me around your house." He followed John into the kitchen.

John turned on the kettle and smiled. "Okay. But there's not much more to see," he said.

"Well, you have a bedroom, don't you? I want to see where you study and where you are when you text me at night so I can picture it better next time," Sherlock said, glancing out the window at the back garden.

"I'll show you my room, and where the bathroom is and the garden if you want."

Sherlock smiled. "Whatever you want, John," he said. "I'm not here to buy it . . . I guess I'm a little nervous too. It just feels like forever since I saw you and you know, the weirdness that happened . . . but I'm so glad to see you now." He stepped forward to take his mug. "So where's your mum -- working? Overnight?"

"Well, she works her first job this afternoon, cleaning at the hospital. Then she has a morning shift at the nursing home."

"Does she know I'm sleeping over?" Sherlock asked.

John shook his head. "Is that okay?"

"It doesn't matter, I guess," Sherlock said. "I just don't want you to get in trouble." He took a sip of tea. "How come you didn't tell her?" he asked, a little more quietly.

John looked down. "I don't know. I didn't want her to know what we might be doing."

"You mean sex?" Sherlock asked cheekily.

John flushed darker and looked down at his tea. "It's not something she needs to know," he murmured.

"Don't be shy," Sherlock said, smiling. "If there's a chance we're going to do it, don't be shy about the word." He reached over and pushed lightly on John's arm.

John glanced up at him and smiled softly. "Well, maybe I'll say it later. Come for the tour."

"All right," Sherlock said, standing up. "I might say it a few more times. Sex, sex, sex." He pushed on John's arm again before following him.

"Quiet and come along," he said, tugging Sherlock out of the room. "You saw the kitchen and the sitting room. Now upstairs," he smiled.

"Is your bed upstairs? Is that why you're taking me up there?" Sherlock teased.

"It is, and you'll have one glance before we leave. Can't spoil the surprise," he smiled. "That's the bathroom."

"Here," Sherlock said, pulling John into the bathroom. "Let's kiss in each room of the house, well, not your mum's but the other ones." He leaned forward, waiting for John to agree. 

"I don't know why, but okay," John smiled, leaning in to kiss him.

"Thank you," Sherlock said. "All right, let's see your room."

"Only a glance," he reminded Sherlock, leading the way and pushing the door open.

Sherlock leaned in but didn't cross the threshold. It looked just like he imagined John's room would look. "Very tidy," he said, smiling.

John pulled the door shut and smiled. "Does a kiss just outside the door count?"

"Afraid not," Sherlock said, turning dramatically. Then he turned back towards John. "But I'm thinking there's a chance we might kiss in there later, yeah?"

John nodded. "Can't have sex without kissing," he said softly.

"You said sex!" Sherlock said. "Did your sister have a room here?" he asked. "We don't have to kiss in it, I was just wondering."

"Yeah, at the end of the hall across from my mum's," he said.

Sherlock glanced down. "You've got a nice house, John," he said. "It's got a nice feel to it." He smiled genuinely.

John smiled softly. "Let's go down to the sitting room," he said.

"All right," he said, following him down. When they got there, he sat down on the sofa, looking around the room again. "What should we do now?" he asked.

"Want to watch a film? I only have a few options but I can look on the computer as well," he said.

"That sounds good," Sherlock said. "I'll let you choose. Will you sit by me when we watch it?"

"Yeah," John smiled. "Do you have a preference? I have a lot of action stuff."

"John, honestly, look at my face -- I'm just glad to be here with you," Sherlock said. It came out a little more romantically than he'd intended but it was really true. "Besides, if I get bored, I'll keep myself entertained by annoying you," he added.

John rolled his eyes and put on an old Bond movie. He was already sitting down when he remembered there was quite a lot of kissing in it. And more.

"Come closer," Sherlock said, holding out his arm. Then he sat back. "Am I making you uncomfortable?" he said awkwardly. "I'm sorry -- I'm just teasing really, but maybe I'm doing it too much?"

"No, no," John assured him. "It's just I can't stop thinking about later and I'm worried I'm making you uncomfortable because I'm being awkward." He glanced at the film and there was already a kissing scene. He flushed lightly. "I'm just going to admit that I'm thinking about having sex with you and maybe that'll help to get it out." He took a deep breath and cuddled against Sherlock to keep watching.

"I'm thinking about it too," Sherlock said, putting his arm around John. "Is that why you're forcing me to watch this pornography?" he joked.

"No!" John covered his face. "I forgot it was like this at parts."

"Sure, sure, sure," Sherlock said, letting his fingers fiddle with John's hair a bit. "All right, let's focus. Who's this guy and what's happening here?" he asked.

John explained the premise of the movie, trying not to give anything important away.

Sherlock tried to focus, but he found it hard to. He was mainly just thinking about being close to John -- not even what might come later, though he did spend a little time on that, but mostly just enjoying the touching that was occurring, the closeness he'd been wishing for all week. It was nice.

John still flushed lightly with every romantic scene, but it was nice feeling Sherlock's fingers in his hair. His own fingers traced where he knew the lines of Sherlock's tattoo were. By the end of the movie his stomach was grumbling.

"Are you making that noise?" Sherlock said. "Does that mean it's time to get food?" He put a kiss on the top of John's head.

"I might have skipped breakfast and counted that tea as lunch," he admitted. "I can call it in," he said, pushing himself to sit up.

Sherlock smiled. "Well, I know you like food, so let's get you some. Just pick two things you like so you can eat some of mine if I don't finish it."

"Mine will be enough," he said, choosing lo mein and fried rice. He called in the order and sat on the sofa again.

Sherlock shifted a bit so he was a little closer to John. "So, two weeks ago," he said. "What would you be doing on a Saturday evening?" 

"I would have been up in my room passing the time, maybe studying while Greg tried to make me go to a party," he said. "Most people stopped asking a long time ago, but Greg sometimes still does."

"Your friends go to a lot of parties? Is that where you met the girls?" Sherlock asked.

John nodded. "They go almost every weekend. I went a couple times. It's fun, I suppose, but I kept thinking about my work and stuff, and I usually have homework so . . ." he shrugged.

"You're so serious, John Watson," Sherlock said, lightly teasing. "I don't go to parties because I don't think they're fun. I'll probably never want to go to one. Do you think that'll be a problem for us, I mean, if we're together and all . . . you know what I mean." 

John shook his head. "No, I don't think it will be. Are you always looking for problems?" he asked, a small smile to show he wasn't entirely serious.

"Yes," Sherlock said honestly. "Sorry -- it's just the way I am, I guess. They seem to always be looking for me so I guess I'd rather get the jump on them." He reached over and stroked John's bicep a little. "You're handsome," he mumbled for no reason other than it was what was in his head at the moment.

John bit his lip softly. "If you're trying to distract me . . . it's working," he said

"Just noting a fact," Sherlock said, shifting his legs a bit closer to John's.

"You're really handsome too," John said, lifting his head to meet Sherlock's gaze.

"Can I give you a kiss even though we've technically already kissed in this room?" Sherlock asked, sitting up to lean in a bit closer.

John nodded. "We did miss a couple rooms so . . ." he trailed off, closing the space and kissing Sherlock's mouth again.

Sherlock squeezed John's arm as their mouths met. "You're good at kissing," he said softly afterwards.

"You too . . . I like kissing you," he murmured. He leaned in and touched Sherlock's lips with his own, a light tease.

"Well, I'm not sure I'm an expert, but I just like . . . everything about doing it with you."

John nodded, their lips still so very close. And then the door sounded, making him jump lightly. "I'll get it," he said, getting up.

"Hold on," Sherlock said, collecting himself a bit and standing up. "I'm treating, remember?" He pulled out his wallet as they headed to the door.

John pulled the door open, standing there while Sherlock paid and grabbed the bags. "Oh, I'll get plates," he said, moving into the kitchen. 

Sherlock followed him in. He moved behind him and kissed John's neck. "I wasn't sure if we'd kissed in here so I thought it's better to be certain." He carried some of the food over to the table and sat down. "Smells good," he said.

John touched the spot on his neck softly before getting plates and two bottles of water. "It's always good to be thorough," he said.

As they ate, they chatted about classes and plans for the future. Sherlock tried to explain the experiment he'd worked on. "That reminds me," he said. "Do you think you'll want to come to mine for dinner tomorrow? My mum's invited you."

"Your mum?" John said. "She knows about me?"

"Yeah, of course," Sherlock said and then paused. "Was I not supposed to tell her? I'm sorry . . ."

"No! No," he said. "That's okay. I just . . . I should have told my mum more about you. I'm sorry." He mixed his food and looked up. "I'd like to come to dinner," he said.

"John, whatever you want to do is fine with me -- your family has a different past than mine," Sherlock said. "Anyway, your food okay?"

"Yeah, it's good. I just don't want you to think I'm ashamed or anything," he said.

Sherlock thought for a moment. "I mean . . . are you going to tell her about the drugs stuff?" he asked quietly.

"No," John said. "Just that you're my boyfriend. Officially."

Sherlock smiled, feeling a bit relieved -- that was a complication he didn't want to have with John's mum. "Officially?" he asked. "What does that mean? Do I have to sign a legal document or something?"

"No," John laughed. "I just mean instead of being the guy I went on a date with, you're my boyfriend. If you want.

"Yeah, that's good with me," Sherlock said. "Any perks that come with the position?"

"A whole lot of things," he grinned.

"Is sex one of them?" Sherlock asked. "It doesn't matter -- actually, I want to say something about sex, is it okay if I do?"

John nodded, looking up at him again.

"I guess I just wanted to say, I don't want us to just do one thing," Sherlock said. "I mean . . . I don't know if you're just thinking about, you know, _that_ , but to me, it's like different things. I just mean . . . we've not really had the chance to be together, you know, indoors, and if we don't do _that_ tonight, I don't want you to feel disappointed. Whatever we do, it will be good." He felt his face warm a little. "That didn't come out entirely as I planned it, but do you know what I'm trying to say?"

"I know, Sherlock. I know we don't have to and I won't be disappointed if we don't," he said.

"Good then, because I like some pretty weird shit," Sherlock laughed. "I'm kidding -- don't panic. But I do like things . . . other than that, well in addition to. I hope I can show you some . . ." he added, pushing his leg out to rest his foot on John's.

John smiled even as his cheeks heated. "Well, we'll see," he said. "Maybe I'll show you something," he said cheekily.

"Intriguing," Sherlock smiled. When they finished, they had a cup of tea and then Sherlock said, "What do you want to do now?"

John glanced at the time. "Want to watch another film? Or we can go upstairs?"

"We could do both maybe -- watch a film on the computer in your room?" Sherlock suggested. He felt cautious because he didn't want to seem too eager to go to bed with John. But he was eager.

"Okay, but this time you pick a movie. Go look while I do the dishes," John said.

Sherlock went out to the other room and got John's laptop, bringing it back in and sitting down at the table to search. "I don't know a lot of movies -- do you care if it's a documentary? It'll be about crime so it won't be too science-y," he said.

John smiled. "Whatever you like," he said over his shoulder. He was glad there wasn't much in the sink.

"Fine," Sherlock said. "This one is about urban legends -- it's not too violent so you won't get too scared or anything," he said, smiling.

John laughed. "I will not get scared," he said. He finished up and picked up the computer. "Come on, then."

Sherlock grabbed his bag from the sitting room and then followed John up the stairs. 

John opened the door and led the way in. "So this is the grand finale to the tour," he smiled.


	14. The Sleepover

Sherlock stepped in and dropped his bag near the bed. He stood awkwardly for a moment and then said, "Can I sit on the bed?"

"Yeah, anywhere you want. Make yourself comfortable." John set up the computer to play on the telly, turning it more towards the bed. "When it starts I'll shut the light off," he said. 

Sherlock sat down on the bed, leaning over to take his shoes off. Then he pushed himself up, so he could rest against the pillows. "Is this where you are when you text me at night?" he said, looking over at John.

"Yeah," he smiled. He shut the lights off and climbed onto the bed. "I'm on this side of the bed, usually facing the window."

"I imagined that you looked either quite cute or really sexy, and now I see I was right about both," Sherlock said. Now that they were actually on the bed, it was a little easier to say these things when it was darker in the room.

John flushed lightly as he moved a bit closer to Sherlock, leaning on his shoulder. "Aren't you in your bed when we text?"

"Usually, but I don't look cute or sexy, just . . . " Sherlock pulled a face that was a cross between asleep, stupid, and horny -- or at least that's how he imagined a face like that would look.

John laughed. "What a dreamboat," he teased. "I was trying to be romantic," he said. 

"I'm not very good at being romantic, I don't think," Sherlock said, shifting a little so he was lying down a bit more. "What that does mean, though, is that if I say you look handsome or whatever, you'll know I really mean it and I'm not just trying to be all lovey-dovey. Do you sleep in pajamas or do you sleep naked?" 

"Boxers," John said. The movie played in the background and he spoke softly. "You?"

"Pajamas. Well, tonight at least," Sherlock said slyly. "I brought some." He snuggled down and looked at the television, but he could feel John looking at him.

John studied Sherlock's profile openly, tracing the sharp lines, looking at his earring and his hair. "You're so handsome," he mumbled softly. 

"Thanks, " Sherlock said awkwardly. He turned his head towards John. "You are . . . I mean, really."

John glanced away, looked at Sherlock's lips, and then quickly somewhere else. "I'm glad that you came over," he said, bringing his eyes back to Sherlock's.

"I'm glad you invited me," Sherlock said. He turned his head back to the television but lifted an arm to kind of put it around John.

John cuddled closer and watched the movie. Mostly he listened to Sherlock's breathing, trying to sync his own to it. Sherlock's was faster. He gave up and realised he'd missed a good chunk of the movie. 

Sherlock turned his head towards John. Their faces were very close. "I'm going to give you a quiz on this afterwards," he said, smiling. "I hope you've been paying attention."

"I haven't," he admitted. "What happens if I don't pass?" 

"No kissing," Sherlock said. He lifted a hand to John's head, fiddling with his hair.

"We should start over then -- I don't want to fail," he said, turning with extra focus to the movie. 

Sherlock ignored the comment. "Can I kiss you? Properly -- lying down on your bed -- can I kiss you?" he asked softly.

John's next breath came out in a small huff. He turned his head to face Sherlock again. He nodded. "Yes," he whispered. 

Sherlock pulled John's head closer, both hands in his hair now. He kissed John softly, gently, before deepening it by tipping their heads and letting his tongue slip into John's mouth.

John returned the kiss, trying not to be over eager, which was difficult because it was so good. His hands moved from Sherlock's sides, up to his chest and shoulders. 

Sherlock's hands slid down the top of John's shoulders to grip his upper arms. He leaned forward a little, pushing John back against the bed. "It feels good," he said. "I knew it would." He shifted again, this time lying on top of John like he'd done at the lake. He let his weight rest on John's body, and his hands moved up and down John's arms. Then he gripped one of John's hands and lifted it over his head as he began to kiss him a little more urgently.

John was panting softly as he kissed back, his free hand tugged at Sherlock's tucked shirt and pushed inside to touch his skin. He wondered if it looked as flushed as it felt. He hoped he got the chance to see, the chance to look at Sherlock properly without anything on. And then he remembered his own tattoo and flushed. He should have told Sherlock before they got this far, because now they'd stop kissing if Sherlock got freaked out by it.

Sherlock's flesh tingled where John touched him. He dropped his mouth to John's neck and sucked and kissed the skin there. He tried not to move his body too much, wanting to make this last as long as possible.

John's head tipped back with a small moan, his hands moving around to rub Sherlock's back. "Feels good . . ." he mumbled. 

Sherlock kissed down John's neck, trailing his mouth along the collarbone. Then he pushed himself up and started to unbutton his shirt. "Is it okay if I take this off?" he asked.

John nodded, knowing the moment was close. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep his own shirt on all night. 

Sherlock took off his shirt and dropped it on the floor. He leaned down and kissed John again. He reached to pull at John's shirt. "Will you, too?" he asked

John reached up and traced Sherlock's tattoo, but then he flushed and held his shirt in place. "Hold on," he said. He touched Sherlock's hand. "I got something . . . I don't want you to laugh. Or judge me. It's not just for you, well, a little, but it was for me too and . . . and if you think it's too much and want to leave, it's okay." He looked away as he pulled off his shirt, keeping his gaze on the window. 

Sherlock hesitated, wondering what John was talking about. Then he looked down, seeing two small bumblebees tattooed on John's chest. "John," he exhaled, taking a moment to process it, and then the corners of his mouth began to turn up. "I can't believe you did this," he said as his smile grew wider. "Why?"

John glanced up and flushed, covering his face. "Don't laugh! I wanted . . . I wanted to be unpredictable. To keep remembering to do what I want to do sometimes. You gave me that so . . . I wanted us to match. Because I'm weird." 

"You're not weird, John," Sherlock said softly. "You're . . . perfect." He leaned down and looked a bit more closely. "They're buff-tailed bumblebees, bombus terrestris. Males -- black faces with a buff tinge on their tails. The artist did an excellent job." He touched John's chest, moving his fingertips near the bees. "Did it hurt?" he whispered.

John pulled his hands away from his face, smiling softly now. "Yeah, but it was okay," he said. "It's still a bit fresh, but I wanted you to see it."

"I've got some salve you can put on it," Sherlock said, his voice still quiet. "I'll give it to you tomorrow." He leaned all the way down now and put a few soft kisses around the bees. He lifted his head and smiled softly before kissing a few more times. Then he let his tongue trace a line from one of the bees to John's nipple. He swirled his tongue around it before lightly nuzzling it.

John moaned softly, his fingers burying into the soft curls. "That feels good," he exhaled. 

Sherlock kept moving his mouth over one nipple before moving to the other. As he did, he let one of his hands drift to John's hip. He grabbed onto the waistband of John's jeans, tugging on it lightly as he pressed his own hips against John's.

"I can take those off too," John smiled. "There are no more surprises." 

Sherlock looked up and smiled as well. Then he moved again, lying down beside John. "Let's both get undressed and under the covers," he said, starting to unbutton his trousers.

John nodded, pushing his jeans off and then his pants. "I've never been totally naked with another person like this," he said. 

Sherlock moved to get under the covers quickly. "Let's just promise that if anything happens that one of us doesn't want to happen, we say, okay?" He moved a little closer to John, reaching out to hold onto his arm.

John nodded. "I promise." He traced Sherlock's side and up along his chest. 

Sherlock let his hand drop from John's arm to his hip. He leaned in and kissed John and as he did, his hand moved to John's cock, just softly holding it.

John's kiss faltered just for a second before he kissed harder, moaning softly as he let his hand roam the other way now, over Sherlock's belly and down to his cock. He held it the same, gently and not moving just yet. He was glad they were kissing when it happened. 

"It might seem new," Sherlock whispered. "But it's not so different to what you've done to yourself. You'll know what to do." He moved his hand lightly on John's cock, feeling it start to stiffen. "I like that you're touching me."

John nodded. He started moving his hand slowly, focusing on his palm as it moved along Sherlock's shaft. "I like all of this," he said softly. "It feels good already," he said. 

"It does," Sherlock said, feeling himself starting to get hard. He let his hips rock a bit with the movement before leaning in and kissing John again.

John kissed back eagerly, his hand moving easily on Sherlock now, changing between his fingers caressing and his whole hand gripping him tightly as he moved. His whole body was flushed and moving with Sherlock. 

"God, you're making me feel good . . ." Sherlock said under his breath. He kissed John's neck, sucking the skin into his mouth. He lifted his other hand to the back of John's hand, tangling his fingers in his hair.

John moved to find his mouth, kissing him as he panted softy. 

"Do you like it like this? Should I do faster or slower? Tell me . . . I want to do everything just like you like," Sherlock said.

John kissed along his jaw and neck. "It's perfect -- you're doing it perfectly," he moaned softly. 

"I like what you're doing," Sherlock said. He tangled their ankles together as he kissed John's lips hard, moaning lightly into his mouth.

John's hand moved faster as they kissed. Heat coiled in his belly, down into his groin. He was so close. 

"It's all right, John," Sherlock said. He made a little moan in his throat. "I'm close . . . are you? It's okay . . . it's good." His hips were moving faster now, and he bit his lip as his breath changed.

John nodded. "Yes, I'm close. I'm . . ." His voice trailed off into a soft whine as he let go. He came between them, on Sherlock's hand and belly as he moaned Sherlock's name. 

"Oh god," Sherlock moaned, letting himself go as well. "God, John, god," he rambled as he tried to catch his breath. He smiled as he looked over at John. "Are you okay? Was that okay?" 

John looked down at the mess between them, and then up at Sherlock. He nodded, kissing his mouth softly. "It was amazing," he said.

Sherlock smiled and then he made a little laugh. "God, it was amazing," he said, kissing him back. "We're mad, you know -- mad but perfect for each other." He laughed again. "I'm so glad I met you," he added, sitting up to reach for his shirt.

John pushed himself onto his elbow and watched Sherlock. "Are you leaving?" he asked softly. 

"Of course not, you fool," Sherlock said smiling. "I just thought we could, you know, clean up a little." He wiped his hand on his shirt and then pressed it against his belly. He got back into bed and wiped up John's stomach. "I liked that . . . I knew you'd be good at that," he said softly.

John covered Sherlock's hand and helped clean himself off. Of course he wouldn't leave. He knew Sherlock was better than that. "I . . . it felt really good. I liked doing that with you."

"Good," Sherlock said. "Does this mean you'd like to do it again?" He lay down and turned on his side to face John.

John shifted to get comfortable and gazed at Sherlock. "I would," he said. "And maybe more," he added. 

Sherlock raised his eyebrows up and down and smiled. "Thanks for sharing that with me," he said softly. "Maybe it sounds stupid, but I . . . I don't know, it means something to me." He reached out and touched John's chest. "So do these . . . you're really just . . . I don't know the best word, but you know what I mean."

"I was worried you would think I was just copying you or something," John admitted. "You just . . . you mean a lot to me."

"You mean a lot to me," Sherlock said. "We're so different, John, but . . . there's something about you that just . . fits with me. I don't know, I'm not good at talking about this." He held his hands over his face for a second. "Anyway, are you ready for your quiz on the film?" he said, smiling.

John chuckled. "Not even a little bit," he said. 

"Too bad," Sherlock said cheekily, propping himself up on his elbow. "Here's the first question: if two boys were going to have sex with each other, what things would they need to have available and does John Watson have those things somewhere in his bedroom?" 

John flushed lightly but reacted quickly. "I was hoping for multiple choice," he grimaced. "Um . . . is it snacks? I can get snacks . . . " he teased. "I have the right stuff in my drawer."

"Clever and bold, John Watson, and that is why I like you," Sherlock said, reaching over and stroking his hair.

John smiled. "Should I get them -- I mean, were you asking for now?"

"We haven't finished the quiz yet," Sherlock teased. "Question two: are they within reach of the bed?" He reached over and pinched John's arm.

"They are," he nodded. He pointed to the bedside table. "I don't remember this on the film," he smiled.

"You should have been paying better attention instead of lying there thinking perverted thoughts," Sherlock said. 

"I wasn't -- mostly, anyway," John smiled and scooted closer, leaning his forehead on Sherlock's ribs. 

Sherlock lay back and looked up at the ceiling. "Your bed's quite comfortable," he said kind of dreamily.

"I'm curious to feel your bed. Do you think I will?"

"Maybe," Sherlock said as he wrapped an arm around John. "It's not a nice as yours. In fact, I think this is the most comfortable I have ever felt in my entire life." He put a kiss on John's head.

John closed his eyes and smiled softly. "Well, I'm glad to have you here whenever you like," he said.

"Good," Sherlock said. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, closing his eyes to rest. He silently lifted one hand and reached over to hold John's, stroking his fingers lightly. Then he brought John's hand across his body, resting it on his own hip. "I think I might be getting . . . you know," he said. He moved John's hand closer to his cock and then let it rest there. "I just thought I'd mention it," he said, his eyes still closed.

John looked from Sherlock's face down to his hand, keeping his eyes fixed there as he stroked slowly.

Sherlock felt John's head turn, but he kept his own eyes closed. "You still okay about everything?" he kind of whispered.

"Yes," John nodded, watching his hand move over the thick length. He licked his lips, shifting a bit. "Can I taste you?" he asked, flushing as he hoped that was a good way to ask. 

Sherlock opened his eyes sharply. "Really?" he asked, surprised but smiling widely. "You don't have to . . . please don't feel like you have to do anything, unless you want to." He touched John's hair softly.

"I want to," he said, meeting Sherlock's gaze. "I do."

"Well, I'm not going to say no, am I?" Sherlock said, teasing. "You can do whatever you want, John. I trust you."

John smiled and shifted again, gently pushing Sherlock onto his back as he moved down lower. He held Sherlock's cock, stroking slowly, just watching it for a moment. He was going to put his tongue on it, take it into his mouth. He kept stroking slowly. He steadied his breath and leaned in, licking the tip. He moved his hand and licked from the base, coming up again. And then he wrapped his lips around the head, moving up and down slowly while his hand did the rest. 

"Fuck," Sherlock exhaled. "That feels good . . . slow like that . . ." He kept his eyes closed and actually lifted one hand to cover his face. He kept the rest of his body still as it felt like it was starting to melt at the feel of John's mouth on him. "Good . . ." he mumbled again.

Encouraged, John tried to take a bit more into his mouth. He was still moving slowly, closing his eyes to focus on the taste of Sherlock. 

Sherlock moved his legs a little -- it was getting harder to stay still. He reached his other hand down to rest on John's shoulder. "That's good," he said again, even though good was an understatement.

John hummed softly as he moved. The sound of his wet movement mixed with Sherlock's heavy breathing made him rut his own hips into the bed. 

"John," Sherlock said. He paused for a second, realising his hips were beginning to move. "John," he said again. "Let's . . . let's change. Can I do it to you?" 

John pulled off and licked his lips. "Was I doing okay?" he asked. 

Sherlock reached down and pulled on John, bringing him close enough for a kiss. "It was more than okay, it was incredible," he said. He gave him a little push to lie back and then moved down the bed, leaning over and stroking John's cock a few times before covering it with licks and kisses.

John reached down to lace his fingers in Sherlock's hair. His whole body heated even more.

Sherlock stroked the base as he sucked the tip into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. He took more inside, sliding his mouth up and down the length, letting his body rock the bed a bit.

"God Sherlock," John moaned, trying to keep still. It was almost too good to be real.

"Do you like it?" Sherlock said, lifting up and looking at John. He looked so sexy. Sherlock put a few kisses on the top of John's thigh before moving back to his cock.

"Yes," he breathed. "Sherlock . . . God, it's so good." 

Sherlock slowly dragged his mouth up John's cock and then lifted his head. He moved his hand, slowly stroking him. "Breathe a little," he said. "I'm going to stop now because I don't want this to end yet." He slid his body next to John's, letting go of him as he moved his hand to rest on John's chest. "Okay?" he asked softly.

John swallowed hard and nodded. "Okay. I don't want it to end yet either." 

Sherlock leaned in and kissed John's neck softly. "Do you want to do more or do what we did before, with our hands, I mean?" he whispered against the skin.

"I want to do more," John answered, tilting his head back as his hand grazed Sherlock's nipples. 

"Do you . . . want to do it to me?" Sherlock asked quietly.

John nodded. "I -- that might be easier for me," he said softly. "Not that I wouldn't want the other way, just . . .you know. For the first time," he rambled. 

"I'd like you to," Sherlock said. "Um . . . I don't mean to sound . . ." He swallowed awkwardly and then propped himself up on his elbow. "Look -- this week I learned that it's better to talk than to avoid, so let's talk. I mean, if we're going to do this, we should be able to talk about it. Do you . . . feel okay about what to do? You know, you've got to . . . use fingers first, okay?" He dropped down onto the bed and covered his face. It was a bit embarrassing to talk about, but it's not like they could text this conversation. "That sounded so stupid but . . ."

John flushed lightly and nodded. "I haven't -- well . . ." He lay down on his back so he was facing up at the ceiling. "I've watched films, only a couple times, but I know real people aren't like that so I'll just go slow and you tell me when it's okay for more. Okay?"

Sherlock uncovered his face and looked over at John. "All right," he said. "Hey . . . I like you, John Watson." He leaned over and kissed his mouth softly.

"I like you too, Sherlock." John kissed him back before sitting up and leaning over him a bit for the supplies. "Um, are you staying on your back?" he asked. 

"I'd like to, if that feels okay with you," Sherlock said. He lay back and let his hand drift to his cock, stroking it a little.

John nodded. He touched Sherlock's legs to have him open them before putting lube on his fingers and on Sherlock. He bit his lip and slowly pushed one finger inside. 

"Nice and slow," Sherlock exhaled. He looked down at John. "Come give me a kiss as you do it," he said.

John moved up and kissed Sherlock's mouth, his finger moving all the way in while he was distracted. "Is it okay?" he mumbled against Sherlock's lips, slowly moving it in and out. 

"Yeah," Sherlock said. "It feels good . . . it's making me more excited . . ." He lifted his head and kissed John again. "Do you like doing it?"

John nodded. "I like making you feel good," he said.

"You are," Sherlock said. His head dropped back and he closed his eyes. "It feels good . . ." His hand started to move on his own cock, and his body rocked with the movement of John's finger.

John added a bit more lube before putting in two fingers. When he did, he leaned down to kiss and bite softly at Sherlock's exposed neck.

Sherlock made a soft moan. It felt so good – his body has hot, his breathing jagged, his hips moving. “Don’t forget a condom,” he mumbled, keeping his eyes closed. He was afraid if he looked at John, it might be too much and he didn’t want it to end before it even got properly started.

John nodded. "I won't," he promised softly. He stretched his fingers, opening Sherlock slowly. "Now? Or a bit more?" he asked, looking down to see what he was doing. 

Sherlock lifted his hand to hold John’s cock, stroking it, as he finally opened his eyes to look at John. “I’m ready when you are,” he said, smiling a little. His hips still moved in response to John’s hand.

John nodded, a small huff of breath escaping as he realised that this was it. He pulled his fingers out slowly, grabbed the condom and slid it onto himself. He scooted closer, leaning over Sherlock. "I'm ready," he said softly, and as he kissed Sherlock's mouth again, he pushed into Sherlock's body. 

Sherlock made a small gasp and then quickly pulled John down towards him, kissing his mouth hard. “It feels good,” he mumbled as his head dropped back to the pillow. He tried to move his hips quickly to John’s rhythm as he slid his hand between their bodies to stroke himself.

John moaned into Sherlock's neck as he thrust into him. He felt so tight -- John was already panting softly as the heat threatened to explode. "Sherlock," he moaned, over and over again. It was amazing. "Sherlock, I -- I'm close . . ."

“It’s okay, John,” Sherlock huffed out. “Keep going – it feels good.” He kept rocking his body to encourage John to let go.

John buried his face into Sherlock's neck, a small, strangled groan escaping before he pushed deep and let go. His body shuddered a bit as he moaned Sherlock's name, still trying to move his hips to keep going for Sherlock. 

Sherlock moved his hand fast and then he was coming as well. Suddenly he was overwhelmed – John Watson had just had sex for the first time and it was with him. He wrapped his other arm around John’s body and turned his head to press a kiss to his cheek. “You okay?” he whispered.

John stayed where he was, over Sherlock with his face buried into his neck. He nodded. "You?" he whispered.

“Yeah,” Sherlock said softly. “It felt incredible.” He rubbed his hand on John’s back. “Did you like it?”

"I did," John whispered. He shifted and slowly pulled out of Sherlock. After tossing the condom in the bin, he curled close and pulled the covers over both of them. "It felt really good."

Sherlock wrapped his arm around John. “Do you feel . . . different?” he asked.

John shrugged. "Should I?" he asked. "I just feel like I like you even more now."

“You should feel how ever you want,” Sherlock said, turning on his side to face John. “I feel like I like you more now as well.” He leaned over and kissed his mouth. He really liked that he had someone that he could kiss – well, no, that’s not precisely what it was. He really liked that he had someone he really liked that he could kiss.

John kissed him back softly, touching his hair again. "Are you sleepy?"

Sherlock looked over at John, trying to read his face. “Not really,” he said. “I don’t even know what time it is. I mean, I’m not saying I feel like getting up, but it’s not like I’m exhausted. Are you? You kind of did a little bit more of the work there, I guess,” he added smiling stupidly.

"No, I'm okay. I like lying here, though. Let's not get up," he said.

“We could turn that film on again and watch it until we do get sleepy,” Sherlock said. “Actually, I need the bathroom and I’ll put my pajamas on and all. Should we get ready for bed and then watch the film?”

"Okay," John nodded. "I can put fresh sheets on the bed before we lie down again."

"Whatever," Sherlock smiled. "I just mainly care about getting to the toilet." He reached for his trousers and slid them on and then grabbed his bag and went off to the bathroom. He used the toilet and then pulled a flannel out of his bag, dampening it before cleaning himself up a bit. Then he splashed some water on his face, brushed his teeth and changed into his pajamas. He looked in the mirror for a minute and then went back to the bedroom, grabbing his shirt from the floor and sticking it into his bag. 

"Do you feel strange?" John asked, fitting the sheets on. "I mean, walking around after all that?" He made his way to the bathroom slowly, waiting for an answer. He was curious about it all.

"A little," Sherlock admitted. "I mean, it's not something that happens all the time, is it? So I don't know . . . I'm not hurt or anything. Maybe it's like if you haven't played your sport in a long time and then you do . . . " He climbed into the bed. "Hurry up and come back," he added quickly, wiggling under the sheets to get comfortable.

John smiled and hurried into the bathroom to get ready for bed himself. Maybe Sherlock was underselling it to make him feel better, but it helped so he decided not to overthink it. He put his boxers on and climbed back into bed.

Sherlock snuggled around John. He rubbed a hand over his face. "Are you sure you're all right? You don't regret it, do you?" he asked.

"No! Of course not," John said. "Of course, I don't regret it."

"Okay," Sherlock said. "I won't go on about it anymore." He lay back a little. "Except to say I'm seriously doubting whether or not you really have never done any of that before -- because you were really good at doing it."

John grinned and buried his face in Sherlock's arm, slightly embarrassed but mostly pleased. "Quiet," he said.

"How are your bees?" Sherlock asked, reaching up and tickling John's chest lightly. "They're not too sore, are they?"

John shook his head. "No, just a bit itchy, but it's okay. You really like it? I mean, the fact that I did it?"

"I kind of think it's the most amazing thing ever," Sherlock said. He was a bit embarrassed as if he'd just admitted to liking cheesy romantic stuff. But to Sherlock it was the kind of romantic that he could enjoy. 

John flushed again but smiled wider. "Oh," he said sheepishly, not knowing what else to say.

"All right," Sherlock said, turning his head towards the television. "Turn on the film and pay attention this time," he added, wrapping his arm around John and pinching him lightly.

"I already got my reward," John teased, sticking his tongue out as he started the film again.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and snuggled down to look over at the television. He started to feel sleepy relatively soon, and it wasn't long until he was properly asleep.

When John noticed that Sherlock was sleeping, he shut off the telly and curled close to him, tugging the covers properly. "Good night," he whispered, pecking his lips softly before closing his eyes and drifting off himself.


	15. Bees

When John woke up in the morning it took a couple seconds for him to remember what was going on. Sherlock had slept over, and they had had sex, and later he'd be meeting his parents. He cuddled against Sherlock's sleeping body.

John's touch woke Sherlock. It was much nicer to wake this way than to an alarm. When they got up, John made a little breakfast and Sherlock texted his parents to see if they could have dinner a little early, to allow John enough time to get back to see his mum before having to go to sleep for the night. They hung out at John's for a while and eventually made their way to Sherlock's.

On the bus, Sherlock looked over at John. "Don't be nervous or anything," he said. "I know my parents will like you."

"I'll try," John promised, even though he was feeling quite anxious.

"Good," Sherlock said. They got off and walked the rest of the way to the house. Sherlock unlocked the door, and they moved to the kitchen where his mother was finishing baking bread.

"Mum, this is John. John, this is my mother," he said.

Sherlock's mum wiped her hands on a tea towel and came over. "Good to meet you, John," she said, reaching out to shake his hand.

"Don't make a big thing of it," Sherlock said quietly, a bit embarrassed.

His mum just smiled. "I'm not," she said and moved back to cover the bread. "Did you have fun last night?" she asked. "I hope Sherlock was well behaved."

Sherlock glanced at John and smiled.

John flushed and stammered his words a bit. "He was," he said stupidly. "Uh, that smells really good," he said.

"Well, we're just having chicken soup so I thought I'd make us some nice bread to have with it," she said.

"Where's Dad?" Sherlock asked.

"He had to go into the office but he will be back -- he assured me. I'm expecting him any moment," she said. "Put the kettle on, Sherlock. It'll be about a half hour, okay?"

Sherlock motioned for John to sit at the table and then moved to fill the kettle. He got three mugs out and then an extra one for his dad. "What'd you guys do last night?" he asked his mum.

"Not much . . . watched a movie," she said, cutting some vegetables for a salad.

He grabbed a cherry tomato and said, "Yeah, us too." When the kettle boiled he poured three but didn't bother with his dad's. He put one near his mum and carried the other two over to the table. "When we finish this, I'll show you around, okay?" he said to John.

But before they went on the tour, Sherlock's mum asked them to set the table so they carried the dishes into the dining room. "Well, this is the dining room," Sherlock said, smiling. "And that was the kitchen."

"Am I getting a kiss in every room, too?" John asked quietly as they set out the plates.

"At some point," Sherlock said. He glanced at the doorway and gave John a quick peck on the cheek. When they finished setting the table, he led them upstairs. "Parents' room," he said, pointing down the hall. "Toilet there and here's mine," he said, opening the door and stepping in.

John stepped into Sherlock's room, trying not to show how eager he actually felt to be here.

"Should we kiss?" Sherlock said, pushing the door partly closed and wrapping his arms around John.

John nodded. "Enough to make up for the other rooms, I think, to be safe," he smiled, looping his own arms around Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock pulled John's body toward him and put a wet kiss on his mouth. "Come on, let's go, I think my dad just go home," he said, pulling him out of the room.

They went back downstairs and Sherlock introduced John to his father. They went into the dining room, and Sherlock helped his mum serve the food. 

"So John, I hear you want to be a doctor," Sherlock's dad said.

John nodded. "A trauma surgeon," he specified.

Sherlock glanced quickly from his father to John to his mum.

"Tough field -- very stressful," Sherlock's dad said. "Your grades strong enough?"

John nodded. "Yeah," he said.

"Good," he said. He looked up at Sherlock and smiled.

Sherlock exhaled with relief. The rest of the meal went smoothly. They talked about college, and Sherlock gave his parents an update on his grandmother. His father didn't talk a lot, but the conversation was pretty easy and Sherlock hoped John felt comfortable.

When they'd finished, John and Sherlock helped to clear the table. In the kitchen, Sherlock put the kettle on and pulled some biscuits out of the cupboard, putting them on a plate. He poured a pot of tea and laid everything out on a tray. He carried the tray and John took the biscuits back into the dining room.

"Biscuits," his mum said. "Excellent idea, Sherlock."

"Um, I was wondering if you'd mind if I took John back home on the bike," he asked. He knew he didn't technically have to ask, but he really wanted his parents to trust him and feel okay about his relationship with John.

Sherlock's mum glanced at her husband and then said, "I'm sure that'll be fine. Back before dark, though, yeah? You've got college tomorrow."

Sherlock smiled and looked at John. 

When they'd finished, Sherlock offered to do the washing up, but his mother waved her hand and said not to worry. He at least carried the tray back into the kitchen. "Do you have any homework left to do?" he asked John as he followed him in.

John shook his head. "No, I finished it all the other day."

"Maybe we could just go on a little ride before I drop you off," Sherlock said. "But I don't want to take time away from your mum. What do you think?"

John nodded. "That sounds good," he said. 

"Good," Sherlock said. He called to his mum to say they were heading out. He led John through to the back garden, unlocking the shed. Once they were both in, he shut the door. It was pitch dark inside. "This is kind of an extra room of the house," he said. "You know what that means?"

John reached out. "If I could see you I'd already be kissing you," he smiled. 

Sherlock stepped over toward John, grabbing his hand. He pulled him closer and crashed into his mouth for a kiss. "Sorry," he said, leaning in and kissing him properly.

John reached up to hold the back of his head lightly, kissing back eagerly. 

Sherlock slid a hand down John's body and gripped his arse. "Remember last night?" he asked.

John nodded, pressing against Sherlock as he licked into his mouth for a deeper kiss. 

Sherlock made a soft moan in his throat, rubbing his hands all over John's back. Then he dropped his mouth to John's neck, sucking the skin there and making a little bite. "Don't get a hard on," he teased, stepping back a little. "You don't want to ride a motorcycle with an erection."

A small, disappointed whine escaped from John's throat. He was extra grateful for the dark. "I didn't," he mumbled, shifting slightly.

"Why? Are you off me? Didn't you like the kissing?" Sherlock reached out and grabbed John, pulling him into a hug. "I was just teasing you."

John squeezed him tightly. "You drive me crazy," he said into Sherlock's chest.

"That's what I'm into it -- I told you I liked kinky stuff," Sherlock laughed. He stepped to the side and clicked on the light. "You are my favourite person, I think." He moved to the front to open the wide door to push out of the shed.

John squinted in the sudden light. "I'm in trouble, then," he smiled.

"You're a big bad ass now, remember? I think you can handle it," Sherlock said. "Come on," he laughed. They got on the bike and headed off.

Not long later, they were pulling into Sherlock's grandmother's driveway. He drove them up to the house and they got off. "The ride okay?" Sherlock asked.

John took the helmet off and nodded. "I didn't know we were coming back here."

"Well, we're not going to the lake so keep your clothes on," Sherlock said, locking things up and moving around the house. "Come on," he said, reaching out his hand. "I want to show you something."

John followed Sherlock, reaching out for his hand.

They walked down the bottom of the garden and then crossed into a back field. There was a small outbuilding, and they moved around it. There were six hives. "Here are my bees," he said. "Well, where they used to be."

"You mean you really did have them?" John asked stupidly.

"Yeah, I wish I still had some, but I don't really have the time now," Sherlock said. "But now we've each got some . . . for always." He reached over and touched John's chest lightly.

John smiled and covered his hand. "We do. And maybe one day you can get real ones again."

Sherlock stepped close and put his arm around John. "We're an interesting pair, John Watson," he said. "But I'm glad we met." 

John smiled up at him and then gave him a kiss on the mouth. 

They both stood there in the sun, thinking about bees and how they'd both changed in the last two weeks and how glad they were to have taken the chances that led to them finding each other.


End file.
